


a la vogue

by khaleesimaka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, minor explicit sexual content, model/designer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:10:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesimaka/pseuds/khaleesimaka
Summary: One night stands are meant to remain in the past. At least, that's what Marinette believes, but she's never had the best of luck. So it shouldn't be surprising when the mystery man ends up being the model she's working with for Paris Fashion Week, Adrien Agreste. Marinette only hopes to maintain her cool and pretend she hasn't seen him naked before. Designer/Model AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution for the Miraculous Big Bang 2017. My artist partner was artisticFlutter on tumblr whose work I will link once she has posted. Please check it out because it is beautiful and wonderful! Also, shout out to my beta, RangerSargey. I hope you enjoy this fic!

“I’m sorry. I don’t usually do this,” Marinette says.

Her hands fumble with white buttons that refuse to come undone. She makes a mental note for her sober self to remember not to do this ever again because hormones and needs and perfect timing be damned. Undressing a man she barely knows is the absolute last thing she should be doing tipsy, but she is a little desperate and Alya is right. It has been far too long since the last time she’s had a good lay.

“You’ve never unbuttoned a shirt before?” the guy she’s currently straddling asks with a coy grin. Her stomach performs a backflip, and she hates how adorable he is. Though, it's one of the reasons she decided to go home with him as well.

“No, I’ve unbuttoned plenty of shirts before.” She finally unfastens two of the blasted things. “I told you. I design clothes for a living.”

“Right. I forgot.”

Marinette’s eyes flicker up to the boyish face of a twenty-something year old man. His tousled blonde hair has lost its meticulous styling from how often her hands had combed through it and now casts him shadows she shouldn’t think look so good on him. Dark green eyes seem to sparkle as he watches her, full of intrigue and anticipation. When they meet hers, her heart beats faster which might have to do with either the adrenaline of what they’re getting ready to do or the buzz of alcohol coursing through her.

She bites her bottom lip as she works the next button, cursing every god in existence for designing them. Why couldn’t she just rip it off him and get to the good part of all this?

“You know I can help you,” the guy says.

“I can do it.” Marinette swats his hand away and manages to undo the third one. Under her breath, she mumbles, “This would be so much easier if I can just rip this shirt off you.”

“Do it then.”

Pausing, she glances up at him wide-eyed. “You sure?”

“Yeah, why not? It was a gift from one of my dad’s friends,” he waves. “I don’t really care for it.”

Smiling in relief, Marinette yanks at the shirt and buttons come flying loose as she exposes his perfectly chiseled chest which surpasses what she had imagined at the bar. He isn’t ripped or overly gorgeous. His muscles are more subtle and small like a model’s, she decides; very inconspicuous, but enough to entice any girl or guy into buying whatever product he was showing off. A chest she wouldn’t mind littering kisses upon and making the man beneath her moan out in ways he never had before.

Unfortunately she isn’t given much time to admire him.

The moment his shirt is free, her random hook-up pulls her in for a kiss and draws out a moan from Marinette she hadn’t expected. His lips are soft and gentle as they move against her own, and his hands bury themselves into the nape of her hair sending tingles down her neck. Hips rise to meet hers, the hardness of his pants apparent as it brushes against her panties. Marinette swallows to prevent herself from moaning. She isn’t about to allow this man to find the satisfaction in making her come undone before she has the chance to do so to him.

Reluctantly breaking free from his lips, Marinette kisses along his jaw to the slope of his neck and down to his collarbone. She digs blunt nails into his chest, marking half moons there, while she sucks on his skin, savoring the small moans vibrating against her. Desire burns in her lower abdomen at the sound; her core clenches with want, and she isn’t sure how much longer she can go. As much as she would like to draw out their foreplay, she would also like him _now_. Inside her. Satisfying every inch of her body and giving her the pleasure she’s been craving for for months.

A touch, so gentle it takes her a moment to register it, presses against her chin.

She lifts her gaze to meet the man’s, his eyes a darker with lust, and her stomach tightens. Even though she barely knows him, the idea he finds her attractive enough to have a one night stand with is enough to set her off. The idea he wants her as much as she wants him sets her body to burn and the need she’s been taking care of solo to make itself more known now. Her eyes watch as his tongue flicks out to wet his lips, lips she had been kissing moments before, and she wonders what he’ll taste like if she kisses him again. What his tongue will feel like sliding over hers.

“How about we cut this short and get right to it?” he asks, his voice rough and low. It sends a shiver down her spine and her lashes to flutter.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a mind reader,” she says in voice equally enticing if the grin on his face is anything to go by.

Their mouths find each other again.

He pulls Marinette’s shirt over her stomach and her head in one fluid motion, and his hands expertly undo the clasp of her bra like he’s done this a million times before. She sighs when he cups her breasts, his thumb sensually brushing over her nipples. Her stomach twists into a knot at the feel while heat bursts around her sex. All she wants is him, now, every inch of his body against hers while he thrusts inside her and makes her mind melt away to the pleasure.

Marinette says as much when she pulls away from him. Their breathing hot and heavy in the small space between them as she whispers two words against his lips (“ _fuck me_ ”). In a blur of hands and clothes being strewn off each other -- his shirt, her skirt, his pants -- she ends up being the one on bottom. Her sex-addled mind registers the warmth of his lips on her scorching skin as he kisses her neck; his tongue sliding down her chest, licking off beads of sweat, and ghosting her breasts.

Before she knows it, his fingers hook onto her panties. The logical side of her brain not affected by alcohol throws up a big read caution sign before she can allow him to go any further.

“Wait.” Marinette pushes his hands away from her and forces him to look down at her. “Wait. Do you by chance have a condom?”

Though she is desperate for a good night, she isn’t so desperate to put her sexual health at risk especially when she barely knows the guy. And protection is still her main concern through this whole ordeal no matter how much her hormones tell her to screw it. Marinette is smarter than to leave this guy’s apartment with an STD.

Plus, she’ll never hear the end of it from Alya if she didn’t ensure protection had been used.

His brows furrow before he leans over and shakes out his pants. His wallet falls into his hands and he flips it open in search of something and pulls out a familiar plastic square.

“Glad it’s still there,” he says, his smile boyish and adorable.

A blush dusts over Marinette’s cheeks at the idea of her being his conquest seeing as he’s been prepared since their meeting at the bar for this, but her worries vanish by his next words.

“The friend I was with gave it to me before we left the club. I was afraid I lost it on the way here.”

She notes at the faint tinge of pink coating his cheeks when he says it, and smiles. At least they both have friends who know where they went after the club and were keeping an eye out for them rather than letting them leave with random strangers.

He moves back to his position between her legs. Marinette averts her gaze as he slides his boxers off to put the condom on, not at all wanting to see him out on full display for her. Even if it was what she’s been anticipating all night. Suddenly she’s fully aware of what they’re about to do. She swallows the embarrassment crawling up her throat and reminds herself she wants this. She wants him. She wants him to satisfy her.

“So, I didn’t really catch your name,” the guy says when he’s done. “I’d like to know what I should moan while we do this and all.”

Her cheeks burn when he winks at her, and she fumbles as she says, “I-it’s, um, you can call me Marin--actually Mari is fine. Just Mari.”

“Okay, just Mari. You can call me Adrien if you’d like.”

Somehow the teasing in his voice and the casualness between them soothes her, and she isn’t so afraid to be sleeping with a random guy anymore.

“Oh, um, thanks. Adrien.”

Adrien hooks his fingers in the elastic of her panties, softly kisses both her shoulders calling a shudder to roll down her spine, and removes her underwear in one soft swoop. They’re now both completely naked, and her heart pounds faster in her chest. He lays kisses along her collarbones before trailing along the length of her neck. Her body heats at the stimulation, her core tightening and her arms wrapping around his neck. She sighs and relaxes when his lips touch her jawline which quickly turns into a low moan as he slides inside her.

Pleasure and ecstasy swirl in her lower abdomen as he slowly pumps in and out of her, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. Her mind grows fuzzy and dark with want and lust, and she tries to focus on the last time she’s had sex which is… Sad to say, but she can’t remember when. It was probably back in her college days when long nights staring at the same fabric design for hours made her eyes tired and weary. Back when sex had been the only reliever to jolt her back to life besides caffeine, and, according to Alya, that was entirely too long ago.

But, lord, did it feel _good_ to be doing this again.

Marinette clamps her thighs against Adrien’s hips, giving him better access and making it easier for him to hit her pleasure spots. As if in response, his hips gyrate, and he brushes her clit drawing out a low moan from her. Heat spreads across her lower abdomen as her head presses back into the pillows, her voice catching in her throat. Adrien kisses her collarbone, his mouth hot against her skin; his tongue caresses her chest and down to the edge of her breast without missing a beat. His hands cradle her arching back while he places his mouth over her breast.

She bites her lip in a failed attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up her throat. Her eyes close when pleasure overwhelms, welling up in her belly like a wave crashing against a dam. One more thrust, and a weak cry of Adrien’s name escapes from her lips as she climaxes.

Breathing heavily, Marinette barely notices his hips slow their pace as she comes down from her high, but she does manage to register the hooded gaze he gives her. The way his hair, plastered to his forehead with sweat, still manages to be sexy and endearing. How he says her nickname like a prayer to the gods above when he reaches his own climax. It all goes into her hazy mind in snapshots, and she silently hopes they’ll stay there forever when she needs them most. Who knows when this’ll happen again -- _if_ it’ll happen again because she’s pretty sure this is the best sex she’s ever had.

“You really think I’m that good?” Adrien chuckles, his voice low and husky.

A small squeak sounds from her, and her cheeks flush with heat she knows is not from the aftermaths of what they just did.

“I said that outloud, didn’t I?” Marinette groans.

His smirk is answer enough.

* * *

Quietly, Marinette slides from under the sheets and leaves the comfort of Adrien’s bed.

An hour has passed since they finished the _deed_ , and Adrien fell asleep about twenty minutes ago, his breathing relaxed and calm. The slight buzz of alcohol has already started to leave her system as she searches around on the floor for her discarded clothes with only the lights of Paris to guide her. She’d rather not deal with the awkwardness that comes the morning after a one night stand when he wakes nor the matter of what they’re supposed to do next. How is she supposed to tell him she had used him for a stress reliever without fumbling like an idiot?

Plus, without alcohol to give her courage, she doesn’t think she could ever face him again. No, it’s better if she leaves like this. In the middle of the night.

Before she leaves, though, she lingers in the doorway of his bedroom.

The city lights outside bath him in warm colors of brown and orange, making his hair almost luminescent, and he looks peaceful. Without the commotion of a bar around him, he doesn’t look like the cool, suave, put-together man she had met a few hours ago. He looks younger, like someone who’s supposed to be twenty-three and still trying to figure out life. For the first time that night, she wonders what he does for a living, what could make someone seem so old, and wishes she had spent more time getting to know him. Part of her feels if they had met under different circumstances, if she wasn’t so desperate for a one night stand, they would have gone out on a few dates, learned more about each other, and then jumped into the whole fiasco of what tonight had been.

But, unfortunately, they hadn’t.

Now she’ll never know what it would have been like to get to know Adrien, but maybe it’s better to part as strangers than fall in love.

* * *

“So, where’d you and the guy disappear to the other night?” Alya’s gaze briefly flicks up to Marinette’s, a knowing gleam shining beneath them, and her mouth curves into a fox-like smirk. “You two were getting awfully close last night. Both on the dance floor and off.”

Warmth crawls up Marinette’s neck, red splotching her skin there. She takes a sip of her coffee to distract herself and bide her time before answering Alya. Coffee and breakfast is a regular part of their weekdays, and, after avoiding every text and phone call from the girl Sunday, she knew the topic of Adrien would come up. Marinette had spent the better part of her Sunday evening working up the nerve to tell her friend the details, what happened that night, and convincing herself she could do this. Then again, she’s never been the best when it comes to the topic of her love life nor her sex life.

“We went… out,” Marinette shrugs.

“Ooouuut?” Alya pushes, brows raised.

“Of the club.”

“Aaand?”

“Took a taxi to his place and… talked.”

“What kind of talking?”

Marinette takes another sip of her coffee and shrugs.

“Marinette!” Alya shouts, her hand slamming on the table and startling a couple walking by their table outside of the cafe. Marinette gives them an apologetic smile as Alya continues. “I need details, girl! We both know you were getting cozy with that boy for another reason other than to talk! So spill!”

Sighing, Marinette sets her cup down and speaks to it to avoid her friend’s gaze. “We made out in the taxi and the elevator, and we ended up in his bedroom where we made out some more, and we might have done other things as well.”

“Did you sleep with him or not?” Alya persists a little too loudly for Marinette’s liking.

“Keep your voice down, Alya! I don’t want all of Paris to know what I did over the weekend.”

Alya gasps. “You did sleep with him!”

“Alya!”

“I know, I know.” She puts her hands up in an apology before leaning over the table to whisper. “So was it good? Was _he_ good? Did it satisfy your needs?”

“Yes, yes, and,” she pauses to brace herself, “yes.” Alya let’s out a small squeal, her grin practically glowing with pride before Marinette continues. “It was probably one of the best experiences I’ve had in someone’s bed. He was… he knew what he was doing, let’s leave it at that.”

“Not to mention cute. You really know how to pick ‘em when it comes to one night stands.” Alya sits back in her chair taking a drink from her own coffee. “So did you get his name? Or his number? Maybe an address so you can see him again?”

“I have his name, but I’m not going to see him again.” The last thing Marinette needs is for Alya to track down Adrien and have them meet again so she keeps his name to herself. “Seeing him again would defeat the purpose of a one night stand.”

“Not unless it’s a friend with benefits,” Alya hums.

“No,” Marinette sternly tells her friend. “It was strictly a one time thing to relieve my stress over the upcoming fashion week event. Nothing more.”

“And about during it? You know you’re gonna be at your wits end when it comes to fashion week! It’s a really big deal for you.”

“A woman doesn’t need a man for pleasure, Alya. She can do perfectly fine on her own,” Marinette says. She breaks off a piece of her sweet and pops it in her mouth.

“No one’s denying that, but sometimes it’s nice to have someone else do the work.”

“Well, it’s over and done with,” Marinette waves off. “I’m never going to see the guy again, so it doesn’t matter.”

Alya opens her mouth, but sighs when she thinks better of it. “Fine,” she says defeated. “Are you at least excited about fashion week?”

“Yes!” Marinette eagerly says, a smile breaking across her face.

She’s been waiting for Paris Fashion Week since it was announced two people in her finals class would be chosen to design an outfit to be featured during the event. A part of her had known since then she’d be one of the lucky chosen ones, but it hadn’t fully hit her until her professor had revealed the decision to her a couple weeks prior. Marinette had spent the time between then and now fretting over what she’s going to design and her plan of action given she only has a month to create a full outfit. Today, though, her worries about the event are more real than ever.

“I’m also nervous,” she admits to Alya. “Today’s the day I get my theme assigned to me and meet the model I’ll be designing with.” She rests her elbows on the table and cradles her head between her hands, staring wide-eyed at the single white flower on the table. “My stomach hasn’t stopped twisting since I woke up this morning, and I think I’m going to be sick. I’m not sure I can handle this.”

“Is that why you only ordered a sweet bread and coffee? Usually you get a whole plate,” Alya points out.

“Yes. I’m too nervous for a big meal.”

“Marinette,” Alya says. Her tone is comforting but authoritative at the same time drawing Marinette’s gaze to hers. “You are a strong and fantastic designer. You’ve been doing this since you were practically in diapers! You have nothing to worry about. You’re going to create an amazing outfit, and everyone who’s anyone in Paris is going to be clamoring to get their hands on it once they see it on that runway! This is your big break.”

It’s the same motivation speech she’s heard since they were in their youth, but it still manages to strike a flame of encouragement in Marinette’s belly. This is her big break. If she can design an outfit that’ll wow the crowd during Fashion Week, she’ll be seen as one of the best newcomer designers and receive requests from clothing lines to work for them. At least, that’s what her professor informed her when she accepted the offer. She isn’t entirely sure what happens with student’s designs, but it’s enough to push her to create the best outfit she can manage.

“You’re right.” Marinette sits up straighter in her chair, gripping the confidence vibrating within her. “I got this!”

The alarm on her phone rings, a crack in the hustle and bustle of Paris, and Marinette frantically grabs for her purse to silence it. She checks the time and scarfs down the rest of her sweet along with her coffee, the hot liquid scorching her throat she’s sure she’ll regret later.

“I have to go,” she tells Alya. “I don’t want to be late for my meeting with the director!”

“You got this, girl!” Alya says as a last bit of encouragement. “You’re gonna do amazing!”

Heart pounding, nerves buzzing, Marinette makes her way down the streets of Paris in a fast stride to the building where her meeting is. She tries to think positive thoughts and remember Alya’s words of inspiration at every pause she gets. A small voice in her head tells her today’s going to be a wonderful day with no interferences, and she believes it.

* * *

“This’ll be the work area where you and your model will do measurements, fittings, and other things you’ll need to do over the next month,” the woman, Addison, tells them as she leads Marinette and the other student around the design floor.

The room is set up with five tables of sewing machines for multiple people to work in at one time and each table has a mannequin beside it for when they need it. There aren’t any materials to work with, but it might be because there’s another room for it, or they’re required to order the supplies they’ll need. Marinette is quite sure, but she makes a mental note to ask before she leaves.

Photographs of models showing off designs from Fashion Week over the past years are plastered on the white walls to inspire the designers and give them some color; Marinette notices how none of them fit her own designs she’s made, and her stomach twists. Maybe she’s getting in over her head with this. It is one of the biggest opportunities she’s ever faced. If she messes up, she’ll be the laughing stalk of the entire fashion industry and will never get another chance like this.

As they leave the room and head further down the hall, Marinette closes her eyes, takes a deep breath to calm her nerves, and swallows her worries. She can do this so long as she thinks positively.

Addison points out a few other doors to them – this is the director’s office, this is the head designer’s office, this is where you’ll submit your final design to be stored until the show – and Marinette files each one into her memory. She doesn’t want to miss a single thing or screw anything up. Given her reputation with luck, she doesn’t want to risk anything. Silently she prays for a good outcome and for the gods, or whatever higher power is listening, to give her all the luck in the world. Maybe even a lucky charm of some sort.

“And waiting behind this door are the models you will be working with for the next month,” Addison says, facing towards them as they reach the final door.

Her smile is warm and comforting, and for the briefest of moments, Marinette feels a calm ease over her and anticipation settles in her stomach. In just a few short moments she’s going to meet the model she’ll be working closely with, and she hopes, prays, wishes, they love her design style as much as she does or she gets along with whoever she’s going to be with. The last thing she needs is to be paired with someone who is difficult or hates her design ideas.

“Before we enter, are there any questions you two have for me?” Addison asks. “I’ll still be available for you two to talk to once the day is over, but after we go through this door, it’s required for you to spend some time getting to know your models.”

Marinette glances at Chloe who does the same, and they both shake their heads no.

“Wonderful,” Addison smiles. “If you do have any questions, feel free to come by my office or email your professors or ask anyone else in the building. We’re all here to help you girls out so don’t be shy.”

Wrapping her hand around the doorknob, Addison opens the door to reveal a stark room like the others they went through except this one had two models standing in the middle, a woman and man who were both smiling. Marinette’s gaze briefly slid over them both, her brain creating a design to suit either one of them depending on who she’s paired with. When blue eyes meet the man’s, though, her heart sinks and dread fills her chest. She recognizes him right away, and she wants nothing more than to liquefy there on the floor and become a puddle to save herself from the embarrassment.

_Please don’t let him be my partner_ , she silently prays.

“Here are the models,” Addison says, her voice full of sunshine and joy. Marinette wishes she could return the feeling, but she can’t. “They’re both under contract with Agreste Modeling Institutes so they’re very familiar with the industry and can give you two great tips to help you along the way.  Chloe you’ll be working with Isabella, and Marinette you’ll be working with Adrien.”

Heart stopping for a moment, Marinette attempts to smile, but it feels fake. The corner of her mouth feels like it’s stuck as she meets Adrien’s gaze, the same green eyes she remembers lighting up in a darkened room. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, as he steps forward and offers her his hand. His words disappear in a muddle of static when their skin touches. All Marinette can think of are the same hands removing her clothes and sliding over her body; his mouth kissing hers as he slides into her; his breathy moans whispering against her ear.

It’s the worst feeling in the world seeing the man you slept with the night before.

It feels like a train has hit you in the middle of nowhere, like your world is caving in, and dread grips your heart with its icy grip, tightening around it until you can barely breathe.

She wants to escape, run, leave Paris forever, but her feet remain firmly in place as Adrien talks animatedly in front of her. His boyish hair moving at all the right times with each bob of his head like the model locks they are. He has a charm about him Marinette knows is what won her over at the bar, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive the next month with him. How she’s going to form the words to speak to him let alone design an outfit for him. Maybe she’s getting in over her head. Maybe this is all too much.

What she wants is to sit down and breathe.

Adrien’s mouth stops moving, and she realizes he’s waiting for her to respond to something he said.

“I-I’m sorry. What?” she stammers out.

“Typical,” Chloe scoffs. “Little fashion disaster over there can’t even form the words to talk to her partner.”

The remark is meant to hurt Marinette, but she’s too shell-shocked to find it in her to be furious with the girl. Adrien, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind one bit, though.

“I asked if you had any ideas about the outfit you want to design yet or not.” Pink dusts his cheeks as he runs a hand through his hair, embarrassed. “There isn’t a rush, of course. We’re cut short on time, and I want to make sure I can help you as best I can.”

“O-oh,” Marinette blinks. “Right. Of course. I, um, had one outfit in mind, but it was for a female model. I’ll have to go back to the studio and work something else out for you. I should have something by this weekend.”

Marinette fumbles for her work satchel, flipping the flap open and pulling out her sketchbook.

“Here are a few designs I’ve sketched out in the past with photos of the finished outfit next to them if you want to see these,” she says, practically thrusting the sketchbook against Adrien’s chest.

Her heart stutters at how hard it is, and her mind quickly dips toward the previous night when she felt his toned abs and allowed herself to indulge in the feel of them. If only she had known then she was in the apartment of a famous fashion model she would be working with over the course of a month. She probably wouldn’t have even allowed them to get as far as they had. Save herself from the embarrassment of this very moment.

He turns to a page with one of her favorite designs.

It’s a simple red tea dress with black dots on it like a ladybug; a simple black chiffon ribbon cinching around the waist to give the wearer a nice figure and black tulle netting peeking out beneath it. Alya’s her model in the picture, but she had designed the outfit for herself to wear to the school’s banquet last spring semester when she won an award.

“These are incredible,” Adrien comments as he flips through her sketchbook. “You’re a very talented designer. Everything you’ve done is unique and different. I can’t wait to see what you design for the fashion show.”

A blush burns her cheeks as she nervously laughs and thanks him. He gives her another charming smile, melting her heart, but she pulls herself away before she can fall into him yet again.

She had been charmed by him the night before; she isn’t about to let herself do it again.

There’s one aspect about this whole conversation she hasn’t noticed until now. Adrien, for all his professionality about the matter, hasn’t given any sign like he recognizes her or that he might remember she was the girl in his bed last night. She sure he wasn’t so drunk that everything they had done was a blur in his mind to the point where he forgot all about her.

Stepping closer to Adrien so Chloe and the other model don’t hear, she whispers, “Do you remember me?”

When Adrien blinks, her heart stops.

Worry creeps up her throat and suffocates her as he slowly lifts his head to meet her gaze. She can’t read what his green eyes tell her, squinting like it’ll help him remember who she is, if he knows her at all, but there’s a moment where she prays he doesn’t. Marinette has never had the best luck in the world. Today of all days proves it better than anything else if she’s being honest with herself. So she hopes and prays he doesn’t recognize her because it’ll make everything easier. It’ll make the next month go by without a hitch, and she can walk away from the fashion event with another success on her belt and forget all about Adrien.

The way his brows knit together in confusion tells her his answer before he speaks it.

“Should I remember you from somewhere?” he asks.

Her chest is heavy as she releases an unsteady breath. She’s surprisingly disappointed to find she did secretly hope he remembered her as a knot twists in her stomach.

“No. I don’t expect you to,” she laughs. It’s shaky and fake to her ears which Adrien thankfully doesn’t appear to notice. “You look a lot like this boy I have a class with, and I thought you might be him. I was wrong, obviously.”

“No. I’m not in school. It’s all about modeling for me like it has been for most of my life.” His tone is light and carefree, but there’s a hardness beneath Marinette notices, but doesn’t comment on. Adrien meets her gaze again and grins, flipping her stomach. “That doesn’t mean we can’t get to know each other better these next few weeks.”

Memories of their night together plagues her mind before she can prevent it, and she gives him another shaky smile. It’ll be easier to get to know Adrien if she wasn’t alone in remembering this wasn’t their first time meeting each other. How is she supposed to work with someone when she’s had sex with them? Sex they don’t even remember having with her?

Adrien turns back to her sketchbook, flipping through the pages, and Marinette can only wonder what the next few weeks will entail. She’ll probably end up dying out of pure embarrassment by the end of all it; she just knows it.

* * *

When she goes back to her shared apartment with Alya, Marinette manages to avoid her roommate’s questions about the meeting by heading straight to the bath and soaking in the tub purely so she could process the events of the day. More so to process what she’s going to do over the next few weeks and how she’s going to avoid the intrusive thoughts when she remembers Adrien is the boy she slept with. The boy she was meant to see only the one time, but apparently the universe is not on her side.

Then again, when has it ever been on her side?

The universe has always given her the short end of the stick; it’s never given her a break a single day of her life. Being one of the two designers for Paris Fashion Week is the nicest thing the universe has given her along with her being accepted into university, but with it, it also gave her Chloe Bourgeois and being stuck in classes with her for four years. Chloe always the one who needs to flaunt the power she has being the mayor’s daughter and what she owns and who she knows and has had it out for Marinette since they were lycee together. She’ll never know what she did to Chloe to cause such tremendous torment from her, but she hates it followed them well into adulthood as well.

It also doesn’t help matters when she considers how Chloe and Adrien seemed to know each other, and she’s stepping into Chloe territory if the sneer the girl gave her was any indication. How is Marinette supposed to tell Adrien she’s the girl he slept with? Should she even tell him since he didn’t seem to remember her? Maybe keeping it to herself is the better option to save herself from being destroyed by Chloe Bourgeois because this is the biggest highlight of her career. Marinette will never get another opportunity like this to shine in the fashion world.

A small knock at the bathroom door draws Marinette from her thoughts.

“Marinette?” Alya calls out. “Is everything okay in there? Or did you drown?”

Drowning sounds like a beautiful option given the events of the day.

“I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute,” Marinette says back.

“Good ‘cause I ordered take out, and it’ll be here in fifteen minutes! Don’t forget the new season of Project Runway starts tonight.”

Marinette gasps. She did forget!

She promptly pulls herself out of the tub and drains the water out of it, drying herself off and wrapping the towel around her middle. Her hair is pulled up in a bun only slightly damp from her soak. When she opens her door, she checks to see if Alya is anywhere in sight. The last thing she needs is a hounding of questions about the meeting while she’s naked and still not ready to face the music of telling her best friend. Once the coast is clear, she heads to her room and changes into her most comfortable PJs.

The moment she hears the doorbell of their apartment complex ring, Marinette makes her way into the living room where Alya is letting the delivery boy inside their building.

“Nice of you to finally join me,” Alya says glancing at Marinette over her shoulder. “I thought you had drowned in the tub or something. I was ready to break down the door and give you mouth to mouth!”

“I’m obviously alive, Alya.” Marinette waves her hand in the air half-heartedly as if it explained things. “I just needed to think.”

“Was the meeting today that stressful?” Alya asks after a moment.

Licking her lips, Marinette bides her time as she flops down on the couch before sighing and shakily laughing. “Kinda.”

“What do you mean _kinda_?”

“I’ll tell you when our food gets here.”

Alya opens her mouth to say more, but is silenced by the TV turning on and Marinette flipping to the appropriate channel and someone knocking at their door. She answers it, listens to the delivery boy call off their order, pays him, and brings the food over to the couch. They’re still silent as the new season of Project Runway starts and Alya separates their orders handing Marinette her white take out box and a pair of chopsticks. Silence still rests between them as they eat and watch the opening minutes of the show, and it’s only broken when the commercial break plays.

“Alright. Spill.” Alya glances over at Marinette over her glasses. “What happened at the meeting to make it _kinda_ stressful.”

Using her chopsticks, Marinette pulls at bits of rice before dropping it again and draws out her answer as she tries to pry for the right way to phrase things. She doesn’t have much luck – more of the universes misfortune it graces upon her – and sighs.

“Promise you won’t laugh when I tell you or tease me.”

“I don’t see what could be such a big deal I’d find it funny or tease you for that matter.”

“Just promise. It’ll make me feel better.”

“I promise,” Alya says, rolling her eyes.

Taking a deep breath first, Marinette says, “The model I’m working with is the same guy I had the one night stand with.”

Another bout of silence follows.

A silence so heavy and thick it makes Marinette’s ears feel hollow and weak as she waits for her friend’s response. It makes her nerves run wild and causes her stomach to flip and her appetite to disappear. She’s certain she’s going to puke out her dinner if Alya doesn’t respond in the next five seconds because silence from Alya is never good. Alya’s a chatterbox who voices her opinion and lets people know what she really thinks; it’s why being a blogger/journalist is the best profession for her. She doesn’t sugarcoat things or beat around the bush. She tells it like it is whether you want to hear it or not.

Finally, after a minute passes, Marinette glances sideways to find the widest grin on her friend’s face.

“Shut up!” Alya says. “You’re working with the guy you fucked!”

“Alya!” Marinette slaps her arm. “Don’t be so crude! It was a one night stand! We slept together!”

“What would you rather me say? You two made love? Because I can tell you that is not what happened, but maybe it can know that you’re working with him,” Alya says with a wink.

“Ugh, no! It was a one time deal, and is never going to happen again! Besides, we’re in a professional relationship now! I’m not going to sleep with my co-worker.”

“You’re only working with him for a month,” Alya waves off. “It isn’t exactly professional.”

“It is when you’re getting paid.”

“Correction, he’s the one getting paid. You’re doing this for your education. Plus, who says you two can’t date after all this is over and fool around a bit? You two have already seen each other naked.”

“It’s not going to happen, Alya!”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters he doesn’t even remember me.”

Alya blinks. “What do you mean he doesn’t remember you? How can he not remember you?”

“We were both a little drunk and it was dark so we never got to see each other properly,” Marinette excuses.

“But you remember him.”

“Yes because I recognized his hair and his eyes.” Marinette slides on her side of the couch and stares up at the ceiling with a dreamy sigh as she remembers his eyes. The way they seemed to glow even in the darkness of his bedroom, how they darkened before he kissed her; the same eyes she swore she could melt into. “His eyes are such a pretty green like tiny blades of grass on a warm summer’s day. How could I not remember them?”

“You have a thing for his eyes. That’s a new kink I’ve never heard of.”

“It’s not a kink. They’re just a really attractive color.” Shaking the thoughts from her head, Marinette straightens once again and draws the conversation back to her main issue. “But that’s beyond the point I’m trying to make here.”

“Which is?”

“I’m working with the man I slept with for one night, and I’m the only one who remembers! Not to mention he might be friends with Chloe who cannot find out about this or it’ll ruin this whole opportunity for me.”

“He’s friends with _Chloe_?”

“Yes,” Marinette nods, “which makes things worse. How am I supposed to survive the next month knowing I slept with this model and keeping it a secret and be professional at the same time? How does a normal person function with this situation?”

“You could always pretend you never saw him naked a day in your life and treat him like a regular person. That’s usually what normal people do,” Alya says, sarcasm coating her voice.

“But there will be fittings, and I’ll have to get his measurements. How am I supposed to do that without turning red in the face or knocking things over? You know how clumsy I can be.”

“Then you put on your big girl panties and woman up! You’re a strong, independent woman who can get through this. I’ve seen you conquer a shit ton of other things in your life! This is no exception!”

“But what if—“

“Stop overthinking it, Marinette,” Alya says, her voice stern. “Just remember your end goal here and all the opportunities that’ll come after this. People are going to be blown away by your design and frantically clawing at each other to sign you! That’s what you should be focused on. Not some boy’s eye color or his hair or how nice his body is. Remember, you’re a strong woman who can conquer anything she sets her mind to.”

She isn’t sure whether it’s the way Alya’s auburn eyes burn with sincerity or the power behind her words, but confidence flickers in Marinette’s chest. Her fears, though still there, seem less frightening now compared to a few minutes ago. Alya is right; Marinette is a strong woman who will create one of the best outfits for Fashion Week and blow people away even if her model is someone she’s slept with. There isn’t a doubt in her mind she can’t get through this so long as she stays focused and treats Adrien like he’s another one of her co-workers. Keep things professional between them. Not think of how good he looks in his clothes or how dreamy his eyes are.

“You’re right,” Marinette says. “I’ll treat Adrien like a normal person instead of someone I’ve slept with and keep things strictly professional with him. He doesn’t remember we’ve slept together, and I’m sure we won’t see each other outside of fittings so it’ll be fine. Right?”

“That’s the spirit, girl,” Alya smiles and gives her a thumbs up. “And if things do go to shit, you can always make out with him and rip his clothes off and screw him on the table.”

“Alya!” Marinette squeaks, her face burning as her friend laughs. “You were doing so good with the pep talk from before.”

Her roommate is still laughing when Marinette grabs the remote and rewinds to the beginning of Project Runway considering they had been too caught up talking to pay attention. She settles back to eating her food and puts her full attention to the show as the contestants for this season are introduced to their first fashion project that’ll put them through to the next round. It proves to be difficult, though, as thoughts of the next day and what it’ll ensue crosses her mind, how she’ll react when she sees Adrien again. How she’ll be able to handle the stress of it all and keep her cool and composure long enough to work with him.  

It’ll be difficult, she’s sure of it, but Alya’s right.

All she needs to do is focus on her end goal and treat things professionally. Adrien is just another model; nothing more, nothing less. A one night stand means nothing when it comes to her career.


	2. Chapter 2

Marinette’s stomach is a bundle of knots and nerves as she stands outside the Gabriel Agreste Designs building the next day. She had been so confident the night before with Alya’s pep talk and her own before bed, but now she isn’t so certain she can do this. There’s no possible way she can go in there and survive a day of measuring Adrien and speaking casually to him while pretending she hadn’t slept with him or seen him naked before. Heat burns her cheeks at the mere thought of it now, and she isn’t even inside yet.

She’s about to turn around and leave when her phone vibrates in her purse.

Unzipping it, she pulls the phone out from its designated pocket and sees Alya’s name flash on her screen with text underneath it reading: Good luck, girl! Remember, you got this!

While the words are sweet, she quickly sends a reply.

Marinette: What if I picture him naked or blurt out we slept together??

Alya: Girl, chill. You’re not gonna do either one!

Marinette: But what if I do!!

Alya: Then you have my permission to die peacefully on the spot. I’ll be sure to talk about how wonderful a friend and designer you are at your funeral.

Marinette: Not funny.

Alya: Just relax, Marinette. Focus on the clothes and your work and you’ll be fine. Adrien is just another model. Nothing more, nothing less.

A sigh escapes her and she taps her finger on her chin as she reads over Alya’s text again. There isn’t a good enough comeback for her to respond with. Nothing she can think of that’ll help plead her case if she went straight back to their apartment right now and dropped out of the whole thing.

But there is still some truth beneath Alya’s words Marinette can’t deny.

Adrien is just a model. Granted there is the fact she had slept with him, but he’s just a model. Another pretty boy who’s spent his entire life telling him as much while also having ladies fawn over him everywhere he went. He probably had had dozens of one night stands before her, and who’s to say he didn’t have another one after she left? Though the thought leaves her feeling disgusted, it helps ease some of her nerves.

Her phone buzzes again, and she glances down to see another text from Alya.

Alya: Besides, do you really want to see Chloe win again?

Marinette growls under her breath scaring a poor boy walking by with his mother as images of all the times Chloe got her way during their years in lycée together as well as college fill her mind. Not to mention all the gloating Chloe is bound to do if Marinette were to back out now. She’d become the laughing stock in their class and forever haunted by the dream of what could have happened if she had walked through the doors of Gabriel Agreste Designs.

Suddenly, her nerves are replaced with rage and determination.

Marinette: You’re right. I’ll do this to outshine Chloe!

Alya: That’s my girl! Now go get them!

Slipping her phone back in her purse, Marinette stands straighter with her shoulders back and chest out. She takes a deep breath through her nose and exhales before walking toward the front doors of the building. Nerves and worry be damned; she’s going to get through this day and these next few weeks and conquer her fears of Adrien and the one night stand. This is one aspect of her life she can best with pure spite.

* * *

Inside Gabriel Agreste Designs, Marinette waves to the receptionist and gives the woman a bright greeting for it being so early in the morning, one she notes is returned with a bored glance and lazy hand for her badge. She offers it to the woman, ashamed for being so perky, before walking past to where the elevators are and taking them to her designated floor. Once she finds the door where she’ll be sketching and designing for the next few weeks, she cautiously pushes it open in hopes no one is there yet.

Thankfully she finds it empty and breathes a sigh of relief. It gives her another few minutes to gather her thoughts and decide on a plan to go forward with things.

She finds her desk and sets her supplies out on top of it, pulling her sketchbook and special pencil case that contains her pens and pencils she reserves specifically for designing. Sitting in her chair, she flips to the page in her book where she had begun sketching out somewhat of an outfit a few days before meeting Adrien. It’s more along the lines of a concept of an idea she had; something she had been toying with since the start of the school year. Nothing special.

A simple red dress with black dots lining the bottom, starting off big and gradually getting smaller. An idea she had for when – _if_ – she were to get her own clothing line deal. Incorporating her love of ladybugs with fashion since she rarely ever saw designers include animal concepts in their fashion save for the rare occasion.

Picking up one of her pencils, Marinette begins the messy outlines for an outfit to suit Adrien she hopes they can build on during their partnership. Hopefully she can find something about him to integrate into the outfit and make it combination of the two of them.

The door slowly creaks open behind Marinette as she works on the pants of the outfit, and she pauses to see who it is. Her heart jumps in her chest at the sight of Adrien who smiles and waves in greeting before walking over toward her. She barely has a second to compose herself as her throat tightens and heat rushes to her cheeks, but she does manage to firmly remind herself he’s just a regular person. No one special. No one she slept with one night.

“Hey. I didn’t think anyone would be here so early,” Adrien says as he pulls a seat next to Marinette. “Usually designers don’t come into noon.”

Taking a second to swallow her nerves and breathe, Marinette musters up her courage from last night and turns toward him. “I like to get an early start when it comes to designing. You know what they say. Early bird gets the worm and all that,” she says with what she hopes is a normal smile.

“Glad to be working with someone who’s so productive,” Adrien says.

There’s a pause Marinette feels needs to be filled with her own curiosity.

“Why are you here so early?”

Adrien looks at her surprised. “I’m the director’s son. If I’m not here on time, it’ll look bad on my father’s whole business structure he’s created over the years. Plus, imagine what the tabloids would say.”

“Right. I should’ve known that,” she says. “Wouldn’t want anyone starting rumors about you.”

“Exactly.” Adrien leans toward Marinette’s sketchbook and nods. “Is that what you’re thinking of creating for me?”

Marinette glances over it, bashful over the simplicity of it. “Ah, yes. I know it’s just a suit, nothing fancy like what you’ve worn before, but I thought we could maybe add in some things to it that fit your personality. Maybe add something as we get to know each other since this is a partnership and all.”

He silently mulls it over, brows knitting together, before nodding his approval. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You are the designer here, so I trust your creative direction with this.”

“Thanks,” Marinette silently says.

“You’re welcome,” Adrien smiles.

She finds herself drawing toward it, it’s so charismatic and full of charm it makes him even more endearing than before. Maybe it’s how desperate she is for another lay, but she thinks she may be attractive to the model. He definitely has the looks about him she’s always been fond of. Easy-going hair that falls in his eyes just the right way, soft green eyes that are gentle and warm each time he looks at her. Even his lips are incredibly kissable. It’s no wonder she became so infatuated with him the night at the bar.

Shaking her head, she pushes such thoughts out of her head.

This isn’t the time nor the place.

“So, did you want to go ahead and do a fitting today? Or wait until you have the sketch done? I’m not entirely sure how you work other than at the crack of dawn,” Adrien says.

“It’s not the crack of dawn,” she corrects.

“It’s close enough.”

“Going ahead and getting your measurements now will allow me to start on the outfit once I have a general concept down,” Marinette continues. “It’ll make my life easier since we’re crunched on time.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Adrien jumps out of his seat and stands off to the side where he doesn’t waste time unbuttoning his shirt. Heat crawls along Marinette’s skin at the sight of it, and she quickly raises her sketchbook to cover her face as if modesty weren’t the last thing on her mind. All she can see her dark images of Adrien’s chest as she runs her hands along it, feeling every muscle on his body. She doesn’t know if she can handle herself enough keep from blurting out her secret if only to touch him once again.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she stammers out, her whole body hot.

“Undressing,” he says like it’s obvious. “Isn’t this how you get measurements.”

“I-Well, yes, we do normally, but I was hoping we could do so with our-your clothes on,” Marinette stammers, cringing at her slight mistake and hoping Adrien doesn’t notice.

Thankfully he doesn’t.

“Ah, apologies,” he says, putting his shirt back in place. “I’ve been doing this for so long I sometimes forget people aren’t used to models being so carefree when it comes to getting undressed.”

There might be a double meaning in his words if he knew how they had originally met the first time around, but she leaves the thought locked away in her mind. Marinette grabs her measuring tape from inside her bag and nods for Adrien to turn around so she can measure him. He does so without hesitation, putting his arms out to the side and standing tall, and Marinette realizes she’s the only who finds this awkward. Of course, it’s to be expected given she’s the only one who knows about the one night stand and all.

Getting Adrien’s measurements is less awkward than Marinette expected.

She doesn’t fumble with her tape measure more than once, and she only blushes twice during the entire ordeal, her face burning the moment she gets to Adrien’s crotch area as images of _that_ part of his body flood her mind. The only truly awkward part of it is when Chloe walked into the room at the wrong moment, scoffing at how close Marinette and Adrien are while she measures around his chest and telling them to get a room. Marinette tells her she can mind her own damn business and get to work on her outfit which Chloe just puts her nose up at and storms over to her work table.

Once they’re done, Marinette places the tape measure back in her purse and finishes jotting down the measurements she had taken. She feels Adrien hover over her, the heat of his body warm on her back, and she takes a moment before turning to face him.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Ah, yeah.” Adrien scratches the back of his head, cheeks pink. “It’s just I came here really early so I didn’t get to eat breakfast. How about you?”

Marinette glances down at her bag and pulls out a baggy containing her bagel with cream cheese she managed to snag before leaving the apartment that morning. “I brought this, but nothing else.”

“That doesn’t look appetizing,” Adrien comments.

“Honestly it isn’t, but it’s better than nothing. Papa always said breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and you should never skip it. You should always eat something.”

Adrien softly smiles like she missed something.

“Did you want to go out and grab something else to eat? My treat?”

“Like where?”

“There’s this really nice café around the corner that sells the best scones and eggs benedict in all of Paris if you want to go there,” Adrien says.

“I haven’t had eggs benedict since I lived with my parents. They’re too expensive on a college student’s wallet,” she grumbles more to herself. Marinette’s mouth starts to water, and she knows her answer before she says it. Gathering her supplies, she dumps them into her purse and turns toward Adrien. “And since you’re treating I can’t really say no, can I?”

* * *

The café isn’t far from the studio like Adrien had said.

She recognizes the place immediately. It’s the same café that had opened up last year and received rave reviews from critics all over Paris about how delicious their breakfast menu was and proclaiming they had the best coffee.

Little vines dip over the side of the café where the outdoor seating area is, fans whirling to give customers a nice breeze on the moderately warm Paris day while the occupants talk amongst themselves sipping tea or coffee and eating their breakfast. The feel of the place is reminiscent of Paris as a whole; the alluring affect it has on young couples seeking to find romance and adventure and a way to get away from their normal lives. Marinette can respect it for what it’s intended to do, but it’s also too touristy for herself and Alya.

Her and Adrien sit outside, watching as people pass by their table, and Marinette can understand why someone who isn’t from Paris would find the city enchanting. Even in the daylight there’s something about Paris that has a romantic feel to it. How everything around her feels like something from a fairytale book from the cyclists riding by to the tiny cars in the streets to the owners walking their dogs. It has everything someone who’s used to the busy life of an American would want and strive for. A calm in the bustle of life.

“It’s nice isn’t it,” Adrien comments after they give their orders to the waiter and have their drinks in front of them. He’s drinking a coffee, easy on the cream and sugar, while she opted for one of their light teas.

“It is,” Marinette agrees. “It’s so peaceful and feels like walking into a dream.”

“Mm, I love it out here. It’s some place I wish my mom were around to see. She would love coming here every Sunday morning for brunch and watch the people walk by,” Adrien says almost wistfully.

Marinette takes a sip of her tea noting the choice of topic she can touch on. She doesn’t know much about the Agreste family save for how Gabriel grew his industry in the fashion world and became one of the top selling designers. She also knows he had signed his son into a modeling contract when he was very young, early pre-teen years, but that was it. She didn’t know any of the secrets the Agreste family held; nothing about Gabriel’s personal life the tabloids never covered about.

So forgive her if touching on the subject with someone she barely knew is tempting.

“What happened to your mother?” Marinette curiously asks. “I heard she disappeared a few years back, but there weren’t many details.”

Adrien brushes his finger along the handle of his coffee. “It’s not something I like talking about with people I barely know,” he admits.

Her cheeks warm, and she instantly tries to backtrack. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be intruding on something private like that. You had just brought it up—“

“But you don’t feel like the typical people I meet,” he says, glancing up at her beneath blonde bangs.

“What do you mean?”

“Usually the people I meet are ones who try and barge into my personal life and get all the juicy details about Gabriel Agreste and his family so they can sell it to the highest bidder, but you don’t seem like that kind of person. You’re different. You’re someone I think I can trust,” he says with a bashful smile.

“Oh, um, thank you.” Marinette picks up her cup so that it covers her mouth and the smile slowly forming there. “I feel honored.”

“You should.” Adrien takes a drink from his coffee and leans forward. “My mother actually left my father back then. It was a pretty nasty divorce. There were a bunch of lawyers involved to keep everything under wraps and out of the paparazzi’s view, but she hasn’t been seen since. She hasn’t even tried to contact with me which hurts me a lot. My mother and I were close… closer than my father and I ever were.”

He pauses and licks his lips.

“I think they had a settlement in the divorce where she couldn’t contact me for X amount of years.”

“Who would do that to a mother?” Marinette asks, eyes wide with shock.

Whatever she had been expecting Adrien to tell her, it definitely wasn’t all of that. Maybe a more toned-down version of the story. One where Adrien gave her a brief explanation of his mother and her disappearance, but not the whole story. He had probably been dying to tell someone about his mother for years.

“My father, that’s who.”

“Forgive me, but I wouldn’t think your father would be that extreme. He seems like a nice enough man. Not someone who would purposely keep his wife out of his son’s life.”

“That’s because you only know the version of him he shows to the public,” Adrien says.

There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice as he says it, but Marinette doesn’t get a chance to ask about it since their waiter comes around with their food at that exact moment. He sets down a plate of eggs benedict in front of Marinette and a plate of crepes in front of Adrien. Once he’s gone, Marinette tries to ask further about Adrien’s dad, but he changes the subject to her and her own family.

“So, tell me about your family. What are they like?” he asks.

Sighing, she decides to tuck the information away for another day as she divulges Adrien on the on-goings that is the Dupain-Cheng family.

She tells him about their bakery, how her parents built it from the bottom up together since they were married, and how they’ve been successful ever since. She tells him about her parent’s romance story, how they met in a little café where her father was working as a baker and her mother one of the cashiers. How they got along so well everyone had thought they were dating already before her father ever asked her mother out (with a bouquet of roses containing small ladybugs inside of it).

“Wow. That’s some romance,” Adrien comments. “It sounds like something out of a fairytale book or something.”

“I know,” Marinette says almost wistfully. She sets her chin her cupped hand and stares off to the side all dreamily. “I hope to have the same kind of story when I have children. Something I can tell them about when they’re growing up and hope for them to strive for the same story or one similar to it.”

Adrien lightly laughs. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you, Marinette?”

“Ah,” she blushes, “kind of? My best friend Alya says my head is too far in the clouds for me to find a romance like my parents, but I like to believe. It’s just something I’ve always wanted, you know?”

“I do know,” he smiles. He picks up his cup and holds like he’s going to give a toast. “I hope you’re able to find it someday, Marinette. You deserve it.”

“Thank you,’ she smiles.

* * *

The rest of the week goes along the same way.

Marinette continues going to the studio early, Adrien meets her there a few minutes later, they talk about the outfit and share ideas they came with out of the office, and go out to breakfast. It’s casual enough for Marinette to find her composure with Adrien and manage to not think about the one night stand or having seen him naked on the fourth day of their breakfast dates. Adrien is charming and charismatic, exactly like she knew he would be, but also, surprisingly, a down to earth boy.

Even with his extensive background in modeling and growing up with a silver spoon in his mouth, he’s not what she thought he should be. He doesn’t act like he’s the king of the world or thinks everyone should bend to his every need; he opens doors for little old ladies, waves and smiles to children, and treats others with kindness and a sincere heart. He admits when he’s wrong and doesn’t make a fuse about things. Honestly, she had expected Adrien to be more like Chloe. Like someone who thinks the world revolves around them and thinks everyone is beneath them because they’re the famous one in the situation.

“It sounds like someone might be falling for their partner,” Alya says as she stuffs takeout in her mouth.

“I’m not falling for him,” Marinette says. “He’s just not what I expected is all. I think him and I can be really great friends.”

“Sure. And that’s why your face is redder than a tomato right now,” Alya laughs.

“It is not!” Marinette defends, though, her face is definitely burning up. “I knew telling you about Adrien was a bad idea.”

“Oh, you would’ve told me eventually! You tell me everything that goes on in your love life.”

“I do not.”

“You do, too. That’s why we’re best friends. We share secrets with each other.”

Marinette sighs as she eats another piece of chicken from her own takeout box. “Even if I was falling for Adrien, it wouldn’t mean anything. I can’t get involved with someone who’s my co-worker. It would make things weird.”

“But it’s not like you two are even really co-workers. You’re doing this as part of a competition his dad is doing. You’re not getting paid for it,” Alya points out.

“The technicalities of it don’t matter,” Marinette huffs. “I’m not falling for Adrien either way. Him and I are just friends.”

“Okay, sure, and I’m the queen of England.”

“I’m not falling for him, Alya.”

Alya gives her a knowing look, waggling her eyebrows, and Marinette scowls.

“Stop looking at me like that because I’m not falling for him!”

She reaches for the remote and turns up the TV so she can give Project Runway her full and undivided attention while also ignoring the glances her roommate throws her way every now and then. Marinette absolutely refuses to admit she might have a little crush on Adrien because she knows better than anyone it isn’t going to go anywhere. Her and Adrien are just friends. They’ll probably hang out a few more times after the partnership is over, but things will die down once they go their separate ways and find other projects to work on. It’s the way of life.

Even so, she can’t help but feel maybe it’s the start of something new and exciting as she munches on more kung pow chicken.


	3. Chapter 3

On the second week since the start of their partnership, Marinette and Adrien are sitting at her work desk while she cuts and sews the sleeves of his suit placing it against him every and then to ensure she has the right measurements. They don’t go out to coffee today. Instead, Adrien brought them both a cup of coffee to cure away the early morning sleepiness and a bag of sweets he picked up at a local bakery on his way into work. Munching and talking, they share jokes amongst each other, teasing the other about certain antics they did the previous night or in their past, laughing together.

Chloe’s glares at her spot across the room don’t go unnoticed my Marinette, though. Neither do the snide comments from the girl makes under her breath or the mocking remarks when Marinette says something Adrien finds particularly funny. She doesn’t address them, though. Marinette knows better than anyone not to add fuel to the fire when it comes to Chloe. Out of all the people in the world, she’ll only make the fire burn bigger and brighter and have a thousand other lashings to give Marinette if she so much as says anything against her.

Instead, Marinette focuses on her work at hand, her coffee, and getting to know Adrien better.

“Do you think the green and black blend in well together?” Marinette asks as she finishes one of the sleeves and motions for Adrien to stick his arm out so she can ensure it fits properly. “It doesn’t look too… weird?”

“No. I think the two colors look perfect together. They’re a nice match,” he says giving her one of his smiles. “Does the sleeve fit alright?”

“Move your arm to your side,” she says.

He does so, and the sleeve rides up his arm slightly but not enough to have her worried she did something wrong. It’s the right fit for him. She smiles as she slides it off and sets it to the side.

“It’s perfect,” she says gleefully. “Now for the other one.”

Marinette gets to work with cutting and sewing the fabric for the other sleeve, sticking her tongue out as she carefully slides the scissors along the material. She blows a strand of her hair out of her face before blindly grabbing a bobby pin from her purse and securing the strand back in place, all without taking her eyes off of her work.

“You’re really good at that,” Adrien says.

Behind her, she hears Chloe say, “You’re really good at that,” in a childish tone that causes Marinette to roll her eyes.

“Good at what?” she asks Adrien without looking at him.

“Moving around without taking your eyes off your work,” he tells her. “Working without a distraction.”

“Oh.” She sits up straighter and glances at him with a small smile. “Thank you. I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed that before let alone me.”

“You’re welcome,” he returns. “I’ve worked with a lot of designers in the past, but none of them have been like you. You’re a unique one, Marinette.”

This time her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she turns back to work. She stumbles with the sewing machine for a brief moment, hoping Adrien doesn’t notice, but recovers a second faster than she would have before. It’s become easier for her to work around Adrien without worrying she’ll confess to their one night stand or her slipping to the point he recognizes her from that night. Over the last week since she’s grown to known him, it’s all become easier to the point where she sees him as a person more than anything else.

“I don’t think anyone’s told me that either,” she confesses more to herself than him.

“I’m glad to be the first one, then.”

“God, you two are disgusting,” Chloe says.

“Ignore her,” Marinette tells Adrien, “she’ll go away. It’s what I’ve always done.”

“You two know each other?” Adrien asks after a beat.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Marinette says. “We’ve known each other since our years in lycée together, and then Chloe decided to follow me into college—“

“Excusez-moi, but I believe you’re the one who follow _me_ ,” Chloe interrupts.

“—so we’re still in each other’s face much to my dismay,” Marinette continues like Chloe hadn’t said anything. “But I’ve grown to get used to it.”

“Trust me,” Adrien says quiet enough so Marinette’s the only who can hear. “I know how Chloe can be sometimes. You do know her and I are childhood friends.”

Pausing in her work, Marinette blinks and looks over at Adrien. “What?”

“Chloe and I used to hang out when we were kids.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Her mom and my mom were best friends when they were younger and never really stopped talking as adults, so Chloe and I always had playdates together. She wasn’t always the way she is now. She used to be nice.”

Glancing behind her, Marinette watches as Chloe mutters something under breath most likely about her before turning back to Adrien. “Really? Nice? Are you sure you don’t have a fever because Chloe being nice is hard for me to believe.”

Adrien rolls his eyes. “I know it’s hard to believe, but yes.”

“I can’t even imagine you two being friends. You’re both so different.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re sweet and caring and give people compliments without it being backhanded or mean. I can never picture Chloe being friends with someone like you.”

“Aw, I’m touched. I’m glad you think so highly of me,” Adrien smugly says.

“Don’t let it go to your head now.”

“I won’t. Trust me.” He pauses before leaning in closer to her. “Do you have any plans after this? I thought maybe you and I could walk around Paris, see the sights, or something.”

“I would love to,” it breaks Marinette’s heart when Adrien’s eyes light up, “but I actually need to help out in my family’s bakery today. My parents are going to some big baking conference to do a talk there, and I volunteered to watch the shop while they’re gone.”

His face falls from excitement to disappoint, but he quickly recovers. “That’s okay. Maybe some other time we can hang out.”

* * *

Later that day at her family’s bakery, Marinette is busy making some mini apple pies, rolling the dough out and placing it in the pan exactly like her Papa had shown her when she was younger. She places them in the oven at the perfect temperature and sets the timer so they can bake at an adequate amount of time. Baking as always been one of her second favorite passions in life after fashion, and she finds a comfort in making sweets for people that makes her happy. When she moves over to take out the macaroons from the oven, the bell over the front door chimes alerting her to a customer.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” she yells as she sets the tray of macaroons on the counter.

She checks to make sure they’re the right size before taking off her apron and fixing her hair so it’s somewhat presentable and goes out to greet the customer

“Bonjour. Welcome to Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, how may I—Adrien?”

Marinette stops short, surprised to see the boy standing in her parent’s bakery. He looks equal parts surprised when she appears and blinks a few times.

“This is your parent’s bakery?” he asks.

“Yes. How did you find it?” She racks her brain for any instance when let the name of her parent’s bakery slip, but comes up short. “Did I tell you the name of this place?”

“No. I just happened to be walking down the street when I saw this place and wanted to check it out. I knew you liked sweets, so I thought I’d get you something for when we’re working together tomorrow,” he says, his eyes darting away from hers and his cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t know this was your parent’s bakery. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was bound to happen,” she says.

There’s a pause between them. The aroma of the bakery is strong, and for the first time, Marinette notices it more than ever. She vaguely wonders what Adrien thinks of it. If he even notices it. What he’ll think about her and her family if she told him their home was above the bakery.

But that’s neither here nor there.

“It’s a nice bakery. I can see why people love coming here for all their sweet needs,” Adrien says with a bashful smile. “I really love the décor.”

“Thank you. It’s all my parent’s idea. Mostly Mama since she’s more of the creative genius in the family. Papa is mostly just the baker.”

“They make quite the pair,” he comments.

Marinette only smiles in response, and the conversation drops.

Adrien goes about looking at the cakes and other pastries in the display case while Marinette excuses herself back to the back to check on the apple pies she had put in and finish the macaroons. She puts the filling on one of the macaroon cookies and gently places the other one on top careful not to crack it. Once they’re perfect enough for display, she takes the tray to the front of the shop and slides it into its designated spot.

“Those look good. What kind are they?” Adrien asks.

“They’re strawberry macaroons. One of my favorite flavors we sell here.”

“What other ones do you have?”

“We have pistachio, coffee, blueberry, chocolate, and a new one Papa wanted to try out with cumin,” she says making face.

“I take you aren’t a fan of that one?” Adrien chuckles.

“I’m not a real fan of cumin in general. It’s too strong, and as a sweet? It’s disgusting,” she says making a blegh face. The day her papa had asked her to try the new macaroon flavor for the season, it had taken everything within her not to spit it back out and hurt the man.

“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of it either. Can I try one of the strawberry ones?” Adrien asks, pointing to the macaroons Marinette added.

“Sure.” She grabs one of papers they have reserved specifically for grabbing the pastries for customers, slides the display door open, and picks up one of the cookies to hand over to Adrien. “Here you go! Enjoy!’

He takes it and bites off a small piece of the macaroons before humming his delight in the taste and eating the rest.

“Usually I like to savor my macaroons, but to each their own,” Marinette says teasingly.

“That’s the best macaroon I’ve ever had,” Adrien smiles. “You’re just as good at baking as you are at creating clothes. Gosh, what can you not do, Marinette?”

“There are plenty of things,” she says.

“Like what?”

“Um, I can’t really think of one right now, but trust me. There are things I’m bad at.”

“I’m sure you can think of one,” Adrien pushes.

Thankfully Marinette is saved from answering as the door the bakery opens and another customer walks in in search of a cake for her niece’s birthday that afternoon. Marinette excuses herself to help the woman out. They pick a white cake with pink icing along the sides and purple butterflies Marinette’s mama had created that morning. She packs the cake away for the woman rings her up, and helps her out the door.

Marinette goes to speak to Adrien again who’s still standing in his same spot admiring the rest of the sweets on display when another customer comes in. She goes to help them, and in no time, Marinette realizes it’s the late afternoon rush as they receive five more customers. She has her hands full with taking orders and ringing up customers, she almost forgets about the mini apple pies she had put in the oven earlier.

“Oh no. My pies,” she says quietly to herself.

When she’s done with the customer she’s helping out, she turns to Adrien and asks, “Do you mind watching the register for me? I need to take out the pies I put in the oven earlier.”

“Sure. No problem.” Adrien walks around the display case to the register. “Do you want me to just help you out? I don’t mind since you’re the only here.”

“Will you?” she asks, her voice hopeful and relieved. “Oh, that would be really great! I promise I’ll make it up to you when we’re done!”

“Save me some of those macaroons, and I won’t hold it against you.”

Marinette let’s out a small laugh as she goes back to take care of her pies while Adrien manages the store. They seem to find a rhythm as they work in the store together, and she’s even more grateful he offered to help. She puts things in the oven to bake, they both help customers pick out the sweets their searching for and pack them away, and Adrien rings them up. By the time six o’clock rolls around, Marinette’s feet are hurting from all the running around she did and she feels the exhaustion of the day in her body as she flips the open sign to closed.

“Ugh, what a day,” she says, leaning against the door. “I didn’t think watching the shop would be this difficult. I’m glad you came in when you did. I probably wouldn’t have survived the day.”

“I’m glad I came too. I wouldn’t want my designer to end up disappearing on me. Or worse, dying.”

“Yeah because then you’d probably be paired with Chloe, and no one wants that to happen,” she lightly jokes.

“I told you, Chloe isn’t as bad as you make her out to be. You just have to get to know her.”

“I’ll get to know her when she decides to be nicer to me,” Marinette offers.

“Seems fair,” Adrien shrugs.

An hour later, with the shop cleaned and the pastries properly stored in their refrigerator, Marinette and Adrien leave the shop with the former locking it behind them. She pulls a box of the macaroons she had reserved for Adrien and offers them to him.

“Here you go. A thank you for helping me out today,” Marinette tells him.

“Thank you,” Adrien says as he takes the sweets from her. “I can’t wait to get home and eat them all in one go.”

“You’re not one for savoring the taste of sweets, are you?”

Adrien shrugs. “What can I say? I have a mean sweet tooth.”

There’s a pause.

“My apartment is that way, and Alya, my roommate, will get worried if I’m not home by eight.”

“Since you’re free now, do you want to take that walk around Paris with me?” Adrien asks at the same time.

They awkwardly stare at each other before both laugh.

“Turned down again,” Adrien says almost jokingly but there’s a sadness mixed in with his tone. “I guess I’ll have to try again another time.”

“I can always text her to let her know I’ll be out for a while longer,” Marinette offers. “I think a walk around Paris sounds like a great idea. I can use the fresh air, anyways.”

“It’s a date then,” Adrien smiles.

* * *

They find themselves walking along one of the rivers that goes through Paris a while later.

The city lights dance in the reflection of the water as they walk by it, the streetlights flickering as they turn on once the sun starts to go down, and cool breeze wraps around them. There are a few cyclists who go by, some people who are out walking their dog, or couples out on a romantic stroll through the city of love. It’s utterly sensational and there’s a tinge of sweetness the air Marinette can’t shake off. For someone who lives in a romantic dreamland sometimes, she rarely ever feels like she’s actually living it in a moment such as this one, and she chooses to savor it.

She takes a mental image of her and Adrien walking side by side, the birds quietly chirping, and the sound of a musician belting out a French love song at a restaurant some distance away.

“This was a really great idea,” Marinette tells her.

“Mm,” Adrien hums. “I like coming out here sometimes. It helps clear my mind.”

“I don’t blame you. I would imagine going to so many photoshoots and fittings and being the spotlight all the time can be kind of overwhelming. How do manage to handle all of it and still live a normal life?”

“It’s difficult, trust me,” Adrien sighs. “Sometimes I wish I could just leave this profession and be done with it. Being a model is great at times, but other times it can be pretty hard which sounds so selfish of me, I know, but it’s true. Modeling isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”

“I can imagine,” Marinette says. “Having people tell you what to do and how to do it all day long. It can be exhausting, and you can feel like you aren’t free to be the person you’re meant to be.”

Adrien blinks. “Exactly. So you do get it?”

“Like I said, I can imagine what it would be like, and I can tell you, I wouldn’t find modeling an enjoyable career save for the money.”

“But being a fashion designer is also a good paying job,” Adrien says. “If you sign on with a well-known company, you’ll be set for life unless the company goes under, of course.”

“Yeah, but that’s _if_ I get signed at all. I’m not really sure if someone will want to sign me on unless they like the outfits I create.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone to sign you. You’re a great designer. I saw your sketchbook. You have some of the best ideas I’ve ever seen, and trust me, I would know.”

They fall into a comfortable silence as they continue on their walk, and find themselves in front of the Eiffel tower. It’s lit up in all it’s beautiful glory with people taking selfies and pictures in front of it, pretending to hold it in their palm like the cheesy tourist pictures Marinette’s seen on the internet dozens of times. Even here, she feels the romance in the air. The special atmosphere people travel from all over the world to experience.

But she has to remind herself once again she’s here with Adrien. Someone she considers a friend and nothing else.

“You know Marinette,” Adrien says, breaking the silence. “You should be thankful for your freedom to do what you want. Your parents don’t force you into doing something you hate. Not a lot of parents are like that.”

She glances over at him, confused by his statement, but when she goes to dig deeper into it, Adrien nods back toward the streets.

“It’s getting late. I should walk you home before your roommate decides to have my head for keeping you out so late.”

* * *

The walk to her apartment is shorter than she remembers it, and she wishes it were longer if only to spend a few more minutes with Adrien. At last, the night is almost over, and she does have the next few weeks to look forward to spending time with him.

“This is my apartment,” Marinette says once they reach her building. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the studio?”

“See you at the studio.”

Marinette turns to go up the stairs to where her apartment is, but is stopped when Adrien grabs her wrist. The next few seconds all happen in slow motion. At first he’s standing away from her, but then he gradually gets closer and closer, her heart pounding at the nearness, and his lips barely brush against her cheek, burning the skin they touched before he moves away and smiles.

“Good night, Marinette.”

* * *

“What has you all head in the clouds tonight?” Alya asks when Marinette returns to their apartment. “You look like someone who’s just had her brains kissed outta her.”

Marinette smiles, biting her bottom lip, and says, “Adrien kissed me on the cheek.”

Alya’s face goes from confused to surprise in the span of a second before she’s squealing and screaming _I knew it!_ while pumping her fist in the air.

“I knew you liked him!” Alya says, pointing an accusatory finger toward her.

“I didn’t think I would like him this much, though, Alya,” Marinette moans heading toward their couch and slumping down. “I didn’t think he would be so soft-hearted and sweet. I thought he would’ve been more like Chloe all—“ She makes an angry zombie face with her tongue out for emphasis –“but he’s not, and I might actually be falling for him.”

“Well, there’s only thing for you to do then,” Alya says, sitting beside her.

“What?”

“Go out on a date with him!”

“I-What! No! I can’t ask him out!”

“Why not?”

“Because that would weird! We barely know each other, and I feel like we should be friends longer before we even think about going out on a date,” Marinette poorly defends.

“Stop making excuses and just do it! We live in the 21st century! People go out on dates all the time with people they aren’t friends with first! Especially people our age!”

“But not people like me!”

“Girl, it doesn’t even matter! Here give me your phone, and I’ll ask him out for you,” Alya says, offering her hand to Marinette.

Marinette cups her jeans pocket where her phone is and shakes her head. “No. You are not asking him out for me.”

“Then are you going to do it?”

“No!”

“Then give it to me so I can do it for you!”

“No!”

“Marinette!”

“Alya!”

At that very moment, Marinette’s phone vibrates, and she reaches in her pocket to pull it out to see a text from Adrien.

Adrien: Do you want to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?

Her cheeks burn as she reads the message over and over. She’s only vaguely aware of Alya leaning over her shoulder to read it as well and jumps when she hears the girl’s squeal in her ear.

“Are you going to say yes?” Alya asks.

Marinette doesn’t answer as she swipes her phone on and quickly types out a simple reply with only one exclamation mark so as not to seem too eager over the matter.

Marinette: Yes!

“I knew you liked him,” Alya teases.

“Shut up,” Marinette mumbles scooting down in the couch bashfully. Her heart is beating rapidly in her chest, her nerves buzzing in every inch of her body, and all she feels is anticipation for the following night and her first date with Adrien Agreste.


	4. Chapter 4

“Sit still unless you want this eyeliner all over your eyes,” Alya chides for the tenth time. “Unless you want to look like a raccoon on your first date with Adrien.”

“Are you at least almost done? Adrien will be here any minute.”

Marinette’s been sitting in Alya’s makeup chair for well over an hour while the girl does her makeup, and she’s pretty sure they should be done by now. There isn’t that much about her complexion she needs to hide. Plus, she doubts any amount of makeup is actually suitable for her date with Adrien. He likes her the way she is. Why should she put on a mask to impress him?

“If you ever let me finish putting on your eyeliner,” Alya says. She gently grabs Marinette’s chin and tilts her head toward the light while she slowly smears the eyeliner brush over Marinette’s closed lid. “And if I don’t get this on just right, you should know I’ll have to redo everything, and I’m sure neither of us want that.”

“Just hurry up,” Marinette sighs.

It’s best if she gives in to Alya’s antics and allow her friend to do whatever she pleases. It’s at least easier than arguing with her roommate because no one ends when that happens.

“Now the other eye,” Alya says. “Close.”

Marinette does as she’s told, feeling the wetness of the brush glide over her lid ever so gently. A part of her is excited to see the end result of what she’s going to like and if it’ll match the outfit she has planned to wear for tonight. Excitement and anticipation bubbles in her stomach at the thought of going on a date with Adrien, and, though she put up a fight about it, she is curious to know if Alya’s makeup job will impress him or make him find her more attractive.

“There. All done.” Alya puts the lid back on her eyeliner and hands Marinette a mirror. “What do you think?”

She gasps at the sight of herself. The makeup is neither overdone or underdone; it manages to bring out Marinette’s natural beauty while still giving her the appearance of a classy lady. The eyeliner work is probably Marinette’s favorite aspect about the makeup. It accentuates her eyes without making them smaller than they are or bigger than necessary; it’s a nice in-between of the two.

“It’s beautiful,” Marinette breathes out. “You did such a great job.”

“Thank you. I do have a natural talent when it comes to these sorts of things,” Alya says, flipping her hair.

The doorbell for their apartment chimes twice before both girls jump up. Marinette fluffs out the skirt of her dress while Alya adjusts the bow around her waist. Once both are sure she’s ready, they walk out into the hallway, Alya setting herself down on the couch like had been there the whole time. She gives Marinette a thumbs up and mouths _Good luck_ to her before she opens the door to greet Adrien.

“Hey. Are you ready? Wow. You look amazing,” he says upon seeing her.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiles. “Let me just grab my purse real quick and we can go.”

She leans around the door to grab her purse silently laughing as Alya dramatically fans herself before leaving with Adrien.

* * *

They go out to one of the finer restaurants in Paris that Marinette’s heard Alya rave about for days on end about getting a dinner reservation for because all the hottest celebs go there when they visit the city. She’ll have to remember to let Alya know Adrien took her here and take any pictures of celebrities she might see so her friend can put it on her blog. It’s the least she can do considering neither her nor Alya will ever manage to get a dinner reservation here. How Adrien managed it, Marinette can only guess has more to do with his prestigious last name than anything else.

The dinner is enjoyable with a few awkward laughs and the two pointing out celebrities they spot in the restaurant. They talk about anything except for work and tell each other stories from their childhood while they eat their food. For desert, they share a cheesecake together which Adrien gratuitously comments is not better than anything Marinette and her family could make which she says a small thank you too. In truth, her and her family have never actually tried making a cheesecake before, but she makes a mental note to bring it up to her papa the next time she’s at the bakery.

Once their desert is done, they spend a few moments afterward at the table before leaving for the night. Everything is going so well, it almost feels like a dream. Marinette pinches herself a few times beneath the table to ensure she isn’t in fact dreaming, and each one hurts worse than the last in the best of ways. She’s listening as Adrien tells her about a story, continuously calling her by her first name which should have been hint number one for Marinette, but she’s never been the best at noticing small things like it.

“You don’t have to keep calling me Marinette. Mari will do just fine,” she waves off nonchalantly.

“Mari. That’s a really pretty nickname. Mari,” Adrien says testing her nickname on his tongue.

It sounds so beautiful coming from him, but she’ll never admit it to him.

Another moment passes before Marinette’s mind catches up to her as she remembers their one night stand and how she had offered her name as Mari…

She quickly looks at him, eyes wide, praying he doesn’t remember himself, but the way his face changes from relaxed to realization causes her heart to drop.

“Oh no,” she whispers.

“Mari. Mari. Mari. Marinette… You’re the girl I—oh shit,” he says. “That’s why you looked so familiar! I thought I had seen you before.”

“No, no, no,” she mutters to herself. “This isn’t happening.”

In an instant, the magical aura of the night falls and Marinette rests her forehead on her hands silently telling herself to wake up because this has to be a nightmare. It’s the only logical explanation for all of this. Her worst fears have finally overcome her, and she’s having a terrible nightmare right now because none of this can be real.

“You’re the one, right?” Adrien asks, his voice quiet. “You’re the girl I slept with that night?”

Bile rises in Marinette’s throat, and she quickly grabs her purse mumbling an excuse of needing to get some fresh air. She doesn’t wait for Adrien’s answer as she leaves the restaurant without another glance behind her. She needs to escape and leave because her worst nightmare has come true, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. Her first thought is to call Alya, but what good will that do? Alya will only tell her she should’ve been upfront with Adrien from the start to avoid the whole situation.

“Marinette, wait,” comes Adrien’s voice.

“I really don’t want to do this right now, Adrien,” she half moans, half cries.

“Wait. Can we talk about this?” he says, his voice closer. When he speaks again, he’s right beside her, “I’m not upset I slept with you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” she tells him.

“You knew it was me?”

“Since the beginning,” she says ashamed. “But I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know, and I was afraid if you knew, you wouldn’t want to be partners anymore. Plus, we were getting along so well. I didn’t want to ruin things with the truth.”

“You wouldn’t have,” he says. He opens his mouth to speak again, but hesitates and runs a hand through his hair she’s come to associate with uncertainty. “There’s also something I need to tell you. Concerning this whole partnership.”

Marinette’s heart swells at the potential paths the conversation can take, but she finds the strength within herself to stand up straighter because if Adrien realizing they had slept together isn’t going to ruin it, there isn’t much else that can. Whatever he has to tell her, it doesn’t have anything to do with leaving her and their partnership.

“I’m planning on quitting modeling after all this is done,” he confesses.

She blinkes, shocked.

“What? Why? I thought you liked it.”

“Because this isn’t something I wanted to do. I was forced into this career by my father, and I’ve been trying to find a way out of it for years. When my father approached me about doing this whole thing for your school, I thought it would be the perfect chance for me to act like the pompous model everyone thinks I am and just be dramatic and quit on the spot. I wasn’t supposed to last this long.”

He pauses and licks his lips.

“But?” Marinette supplies.

“But then I met you and had second thoughts. You weren’t the person I was expecting. I thought I’d be partner with someone who wasn’t as ambitious and bright-eyed about their future like you are. I thought I’d be paired with someone who just wanted an easy ticket into the fashion industry like Chloe,” he confessed. “But you’re not like what I thought you would be. You have a passion for fashion, pardon my cliché, and I admire you for it. It’s why I decided to stay your partner until all of this over.”

“But you’re in a career you hate, right?” He nods. “Then you should leave. Why torture yourself any longer?”

“If I leave, you won’t have anyone to model your suit and will have to forfeit the competition to Chloe. She’ll get signed on to someone while you’re back to square one,” he points out. “I didn’t want that to happen which is why I stayed.”

“That’s-That’s a lot to process for one night,” she admits.

“Right. Do you want to maybe go for a walk? I’ve already paid for dinner, and I would hate for us to end the date so early,” he says.

“Sure. I’d like that,” she nods.

* * *

“Good night, Marinette,” Adrien says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see… around.”

He doesn’t give her a second glance as he heads down her stairs. Marinette takes a moment to breath before entering her apartment. Alya is still up waiting for her, the TV playing a rerun of an old TV show. From her spot on the couch, Alya sits up and looks at her with wide, excited eyes.

“How did the date go?” she asks.

Marinette opens her mouth to respond, but comes up short for an answer. How can she tell Alya about all things that had happened when she’s stll processing things?

“I’ll tell you in the morning. I’m really tired,” Marinette tells her.

Alya’s brows furrow together as Marinette walks down the hall to her room. “Is everything okay? He didn’t do anything to hurt you, did he?”

Her words are well-intentioned, but they still manage to break Marinette’s heart.

“No, it’s nothing like that. We actually had a great date. I’m just really tired. I’ll have to tell you all about it the morning.”

Alya doesn’t look convinced, but she nods and says, “Alright. See you in the morning. Night.”

“Night,” Marinette responds before entering her bedroom.

* * *

Marinette stays awake that night staring up at her ceiling, her thoughts racing against each other.

She supports Adrien and his decision to leave the modeling world. He shouldn’t be a part of it if it makes him sad and depressed every day he walks through the doors of Gabriel Agreste Designs. He shouldn’t be forced to continue in a career he isn’t happy in. She knows it better than anyone, and she’ll support him in pursuing something that does make him happy and his heart soar.

But, she feels like she’s forcing him to remain in a career he despises.

If it weren’t for her, he would’ve left Gabriel Agreste Designs exactly like he had confessed to her tonight and be done with it. Adrien would’ve been able to go on and find what his heart truly desires; a career away from modeling and the spotlight of being Gabriel Agreste’s son. If it weren’t for her, he’d be happier, and, even though Adrien promised she isn’t, she still feels like she’s preventing him from being so.

The thought leaves her empty and lonely.

A part of her wants to tell Adrien to quit, to risk her entire career on his happiness, but she’s too selfish to do so. She wants him to stay because without him she won’t be able to find her footing in the fashion world and struggle every inch of the way while people like Chloe get to buy their way into it, and it’s not something she wants to live with. Marinette has fought long and hard to be where she’s at. From working part time jobs the moment she could and saving every penny she made to forcing teachers to see her work for the beauty it truly is to fighting for the spotlight in her classes. 

Marinette has fought for the position she’s in, and she’ll be damned if she’s going to lose it.

However, can she do so if it means hurting Adrien along the way?

Closing her eyes, she sighs and pulls the blankets off her to sit on the edge of her bed. Her mind is a crowded mess with all of her worries. Her hands itch with the need to do something other than lay in bed and to find a way to clear her thoughts.

There’s only one place she can think of going as she changes into proper clothes. She pats down the pocket of her coat and finds the spare key Adrien had given her to Gabriel Agreste Designs before silently leaving her room and out of the apartment so as not to wake Alya up. Since her youth she had found sketching and designing to be her best outlet, and, with her troubled mind, she’s finding it easier to focus on Adrien’s outfit. 

* * *

Walking down the streets of Paris, Adrien finds himself slowly regretting telling Marinette his hopes to quit his modeling career. The look of shock and disappointment on her face were plain and obvious even to someone like him who finds it hard to read people at times. He had seen the storm brewing inside her as she tried to be happy for him while also knowing his heart wasn’t completely in their partnership for the show. It had been torturous to see, but he had to do it. She was designer; if he didn’t trust her to know, who else could he tell?

His father had long since given up on bonding with him save for the occasional fashion op or interview they had together where they pretended to be a normal family. He only ever saw his father once a month. Their meetings growing sparser and shorter over the years. Adrien doubted they could ever actually be a family anymore; his old hopes of them being normal people long since gone along with the love he had once held for the man. There were too many upsetting memories between the two of them, and modeling was one of them.

He had been forced into this career and fought his way out of it every chance he got.

From forcing his father to accept his want to be free at the tender age of fourteen and attending lycée to refusing to show up for fittings and fashion shoots he didn’t want any part of it. Gabriel Agreste had never been too pleased with Adrien’s antics, of course. Always calling his behavior out of sorts and borderline rebellious and not how he had raised Adrien, but Adrien had always known modelling wasn’t for him. A part of him had hoped he’d be partnered with someone who was an idiot so Adrien could rich boy his way out of it.

Then he met Marinette and had a change of plans… Plans he ended up ruining tonight with his bombshell.

Sighing, Adrien stops his walking and glances up at the night sky. There isn’t a single star in sight, but he knows there’s at least a thousand of them shining above him even if he can’t see them. If he closes his eyes, he can do so. He can see how bright they are, how they shine and twinkle with hope. Stars that are free to be who they are with no worries in the world or fathers to disappoint. Sometimes he wishes he could be like them.

Opening his eyes, he notices he’s stopped in front of the Gabriel Agreste Designs studio and frowns at the dark grey building. A building that had once stood for so much more, but all Adrien saw was the broken dreams of an eighteen-year-old boy forced into a career he never wanted. All the windows of the building are dark, the lights blown out like wisps of smoke reminiscent of the day his father told him of his plans for his son.

All except one.

It’s seven floors up, a floor he’s grown all too familiar with over the last few weeks, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’s up there. Chloe is the last person he would expect to work so late, but Marinette is the first. The early bird who catches the worm is apparently also the night owl who waits to snatch the worm from the bird. Adrien can’t help but to smile at the thought. Even with everything he dropped on her tonight, Marinette is determined to finish her design and keep working.

He’s tempted to go up there and chat with her some more, the aura of Marinette Dupain-Cheng drawing him in even through concrete walls, but thinks better of it. If she’s out working this late, she must have a lot on her mind, and the last thing she needs is the cause of her troubled thoughts to make an appearance.

Even if it breaks his heart to do so, Adrien turns around and walks away whispering, “Goodnight, mon’amie,” under his breath. 


	5. Chapter 5

The next day at the studio, Adrien’s absence hangs in the air thick and strong. Marinette feels it in her body more than anything else like a part of her is missing. She misses the heat of Adrien’s body when he stands beside her while she works, the way he asks her questions about her life, and his general curiosity about everything concerning her. She misses him most of all.

Chloe works on her side of the studio bossing her model around and telling her how to stand while she adds tulle to the edges of the skirt she’s designing. While Marinette still has a sore spot for the girl, she has to admit her ambition and strong headedness when it comes to getting what she wants is an admirable trait even if she does so in sneaky ways. Maybe Adrien is right; there’s more to the girl than her undying need to mock Marinette, and maybe even that is something she can grow out of.

“Stop fidgeting! You’re worse than Marinette over there!” Chloe tells her model.

Marinette sighs.

Eventually Chloe will get over it with time.

Hopefully.

* * *

Marinette ends up leaving work early to head to the bakery and help her parents watch it while they go out on a much needed date. While she’s decorating a cake for someone’s sixth birthday, she thinks about the news Adrien dropped on her the previous night and everything it entails. A part of her feels selfish for him deciding to stick around all because of her. If he’s in a career he despises, he should quit now and be done with it. He shouldn’t hold off on his plans all because of someone like her.

But, another part of her is grateful he’s waiting because it means she’ll be able to get her step into the fashion world she so desperately craves.

The bell above the door chimes, and she yells, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

She puts the finishing touches on the cake and wipes her hands off on her apron before heading to the front of the store. She’s in the middle of her greeting before she cuts herself short upon seeing Adrien in her parent’s café once again.

“Hey, Adrien.”

“Hey, Marinette,” he says giving her a shy wave.

“Are you here for more macaroons? I have some that were freshly made an hour ago,” she says pointing to the new tray of macaroons in the display case. “Today we have strawberry and pistachio flavor, though. We ran out of the other ingredients.”

“I think I’ll take a box,” Adrien nods.

He steps toward the display case while Marinette puts his macaroons away in a box. She rings him up for the order, they exchange money for the box, and she gives him his change. Very standard of any customer who walks in through the doors of the bakery, but there’s still an awkwardness about it. They left so abruptly the night before it feels like there’s so much they need to talk about concerning his confession.

“Adrien, I think—“

“Marinette, I came to apologize for last night,” Adrien cuts in. “I didn’t mean to drop that bomb on you so soon to the fashion show. I know it’s sudden, but I’ve been wanting to do this for a while like I had said. And if you’re worried I’m still in this career I hate because of you, don’t be. Yes, that is why I’m still around, but it’s also because I don’t want to ruin your chances of you achieving your dream, and if it means I need to suffer for another month, then so be it. I’d rather see you happy more than anything else.”

Marinette is speechless. Whatever words she was about to say catch in her throat and leave the space of her mind because she wasn’t expecting such a long confession from Adrien once again. When she manages to compose herself, she smiles.

“It’s okay, Adrien. I understand where you’re coming from with wanting to quit modeling. It was just a shok to hear you say it out of nowhere last night, and I’m sorry for keeping you in this industry longer than you need to be in it.”

“You’re not keeping me here, Marinette. I’m here because I want to be. I want to help you out, and I can always quit after the fashion show without damaging your potential career plans.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He swallows and licks his lips. “Did I mess things up between us after last night?”

“No,” Marinette quickly says. “No! You could never ruin things between us! I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. It was just a shocker like I said. I wasn’t expecting you to tell me that last night.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

Another moment of silence passes between them. Adrien drums his fingers on the box of macaroons, runs his hand through his hair, and sighs. He glances around the bakery raising Marinette’s curiosity.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

“The bakery is quieter than it was the last time I was here,” he comments.

“It’s usually like this on Monday’s. There aren’t too many people looking for a cake if they haven’t already ordered one over the weekend,” she tells him.

“That’s good because I was kind of hoping you could show me how to bake something,” he says with a small smile. “I never really had the chance to bake growing up, and it always seems like fun when I visit bakeries. And since you’re a wonderful baker, I thought maybe you could show me the ropes.”

Marinette smiles and laughs through her nose. “That has to be one of the smoothest pick-up lines from you since we met, and one of the cheesiest.”

“At least you can say I’m a charmer,” he shrugs.

“Come on back, and I’ll give you an apron. I have a cake I need to make for a client who’s coming in later to pick it up. It’s a simple strawberry shortcake so it should be easy enough for a beginner like yourself.”

* * *

Baking a cake with Adrien is probably one of the greatest things Marinette has done with anyone in her entire life. It’s enjoyable seeing him get used to utensils and measure things out. For someone who has never baked in his life, Adrien is better at it than she originally expected. There are times she has to remind him not to pour too much vanilla in the cake mix or remind him he needs to shift the flour to avoid clumps and ensure the cake is smooth and nice like the Dupain-Cheng family advertise.

When they put the cake in the oven, however, she notices he has flour on his face and laughs which prompts him to wipe some of it on her own face and they laugh about it together. She pulls out her phone and snaps a selfie of the two of them to send to Alya, letting her know everything is fine between them and soothe her roommates worries about Marinette’s potential not-boyfriend.

All in all, it’s a fun day, and she’s curious to know what the fashion show will bring with it.


	6. Chapter 6

The day of the fashion has everyone in a bustle and running around backstage. Models are in different forms of undress as their designers help them into their outfits and put on finishing touches. Hair stylists and makeup artists struggle to get in between the two as they complete their own work, elbows knocking into each other each way they go. Even Chloe seems to be in a frantic mood as she bosses people around telling them what to do and where to go all why placing matching yellow accessories to her model’s outfit.

Marinette has to give the girl’s design credit.

In truth, she hadn’t expected Chloe to get much done or do much of the final outfit herself. She had expected Chloe to do her usual where she paid someone to sew it themselves and take the spotlight for doing it at the end, but she hadn’t. Chloe had spent the same amount of time as Marinette in the studio sewing the fabric together and putting every button and piece of lace onto it. She had the scars on her fingers to prove it, and the final creation came out as lovely as ever with the yellow studs along the bodice of the dress and black trim along the back reminding Marinette of a bee. A design suitable for who Chloe is; elegant and in charge.

“What are you looking at?” Chloe asks when she notices Marinette staring.

Her usual sarcastic retorts float to the surface. Something along the lines of calling Chloe out for her rude behavior cross her mind. Call it a change of heart or her growing up, but she chooses to do neither. Instead, Marinette smiles.

“Your design came out really lovely,” she says.

Chloe’s expression is one she savors as it goes from shocked to confused to a cross between angry and flattered. “I-Thank you.” Blue eyes dance over to where Adrien’s suit rests still on the hanger. “Yours isn’t too bad, either.”

“Thank—“

“Especially for someone with such bland taste like yours. I’m sure Adrikins had more say in the final product than anything else,” Chloe cuts in.

Annoyance rises in Marinette at the girl’s words, and her fists clench at her side. The retorts she had bit back from before slowly make their way up to her mouth. She has a better mind to lash them all out to the girl, but a hand on her shoulder halts her from doing so. Turning around, she sees Adrien standing behind her, a small smile on his mouth as he watches Chloe get back to work with her group.

“At least she tries to be nice sometimes,” he says.

“I guess,” Marinette huffs. “It wouldn’t hurt her to try harder, though.”

“Yeah, but that’s Chloe for you,” he shrugs. “She’ll do anything to get the final word in. She’s been like that since we were kids.”

“I still can’t believe you and Chloe know each other and were friends once.” Marinette makes a disgusted face and pretends to be grossed out by the fact.

“Chloe was once a different person than she is today, believe it or not. She was actually pretty nice back when we were kids.”

“I couldn’t see it if you gave me video proof of it,” Marinette admits.

“You’ll just have to trust me on this one, then.” He turns around to where his suit is hanging and delicately removes it from the rack to change the conversation. “Are you ready for me to put it on?”

“I think so,” she says.

Marinette rings her hands together as anxiety and worry settle in her stomach. It’s finally the big day they’ve both been waiting for, and she’s suddenly nervous about the whole ordeal. So many fashion magazines and photographers and designers are going to be sitting out in the audience watching the designs as they pass by and taking notes. One of the designs will be her own, and all she can hope is that someone out there likes it enough to sign her with their company. There’s a lot riding on tonight. Everything has to be perfect.

“There may be a few touches I need to add, but I can do them when you put it on.” She waves him off in the direction of the changing rooms, beyond all the commotion surrounding them. “I need to clear my head for a second or two. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t stop her as she heads in the opposite direction to where the back of the building is and steps out of the door. She presses her back to the cool building and breathes in the crisp air, slowly filling her lungs with it as she tries to compose herself. Her first big night on a fashion show and she’s about to lose her head. This isn’t how she had pictured things going, but then again nothing over the last month has gone the way she had initially hoped.

She didn’t hope to meet her one night stand again. Didn’t hope he’d be her model partner for the fashion show. Didn’t hope to fall in love with him. Didn’t hope for any of it. Fate and destiny had more of a say in how her life would go than anything else, but she was grateful for it.

The back door opens a few minutes later, and Adrien, already dressed in the suit, pokes his head out. “Are you okay? Do you need another minute?”

“No, I’m fine,” she waved off. “Just a little nervous.”

He smiles and joins her. “I’ve been doing this whole modeling thing for a while, but I’ve never seen a designer get nervous. Maybe a little frantic and afraid things will go wrong, but never nervous.” A pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she shrugs and says, “I’m worried about what will happen after tonight. I’ve never showed one of my designs to top names before, and I’m scared of what they’ll think about it. What if they don’t like it? What if they do like it? What will I do then?”

“Well, you’re lucky you have me as a model then because they’re sure to love it with my dashing looks showing off your design,” he says with wink, and Marinette rolls her eyes. “But cockiness aside, I’m sure they’ll love it, Marinette. You created a really nice suit.”

Glancing over at him, she takes in her design for a second. The lime green pinstripes lining along it blend in well with the black, giving it a look she’s never seen before. Even the cat paw buttons are a nice addition to it, and she has to admit it’s one of her best designs yet. Pushing herself off the wall, she walks over to Adrien to straighten out the sides of his suit, dusting off his shoulders, and making sure everything looks perfect before smiling up at him.

“It is a really nice outfit. We did a good job on it.”

“ _You_ did a good job,” Adrien says, cupping her hands in his.

A moment passes in which he leans toward her, and her heart stutters. The world slows down around her, the busy street noises quiet, and there’s only her and Adrien standing outside together. Despite the cool breeze blowing around her, her body feels hot and every inch of her skin is buzzing with anticipation. She can feel the warmth of Adrien as he slowly pulls closer to her, lips barely inches from her. All she has to do is stand on her tiptoes and close the gap.

But the moment is ruined by the back door opening and the voice of Marinette’s instructor.

“Are you two just going to stand out here all day? The show is about to start!” she says.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” Marinette says, jumping away from Adrien like he’s a hot pan.

Her instructor gives her a stern glare before reentering the building. Marinette waits a moment before turning back to Adrien and asking the question that’s been dancing on the edge of her tongue all night.

“Do you think you’re ready to tell your father about you quitting?” she asks.

Adrien exhales from his nose and shakes his head. “Not really, but if I don’t do it tonight, I probably won’t ever get a chance again.”

“And the fashion show? Are you sure you want to do it? You can leave now. I won’t be mad.”

“I’m not going to ditch you like that,” he smiles. Striking a cheesy pose, he says, “Besides, I have to show off my dashing good looks to everyone out there.”

Marinette rolls her eyes and pokes him in the shoulder. “Stop fooling around, Kitty. We have work to do.”

She manages walks over toward the door and grabs the handle before Adrien’s hand on her shoulder halts her from opening it. Turning to face him, she opens her mouth to tell him to save his poses for the catwalk, but is surprised when he leans down and kisses her. It’s chaste and doesn’t last more than a second, but still manages to be sweeter than anything else in the world. Stars dance around her vision when he moves away from her, smug grin on his face, and her heart is pounding so loudly in her chest it vibrates throughout her whole body.

“What was that for?” she manages to ask.

“For luck,” he says before opening the door and ushering her inside.

* * *

From her spot behind the curtains, Marinette watches as the models strut down the catwalk like she had seen a dozen times from her couch in the past. Her heart races as the seconds grow closer to when Adrien and her outfit makes their debut. Everyone in the audience is snapping pictures, oohing and awing over everything that passes by their way; reporters and fashion bloggers quickly write down their thoughts on the outfits in their notebooks before glancing up to snap a picture of them. They’re all in a frenzy, and everything is happening faster than Marinette imagined they would.

She silently wishes Alya were here to hold her hand or tell her words of encouragement, but her best friend isn’t here. Alya is at home watching the show from the comfort of their couch. A place Marinette wishes she were at instead of here as part of the show itself.

Chloe’s model walks out onto the runway, striking a few poses before making her way down the catwalk where she poses some more. Cameras flash as they capture the magnificent outfit, writing down their comments, and Marinette wonders what everyone will say about the great Chloe Bourgeois’ creation. If there will be more good reviews than bad or a mix of the both. She’s sure whichever ones Chloe receives, the girl will find a way to rise above it all and find her footing in the fashion world to pursue her dreams.

Adrien appears on the runway next, and Marinette’s hands grow sweaty as he poses like the professional he is. He receives the same reaction as Chloe’s model had; people cheer and clap for him and snap pictures of the outfit as he makes his way down the catwalk. It’s obvious in the way he moves he’s used to the attention and knows how to work the crowd, but Marinette isn’t sure if they’re applauding for her outfit or for him. She finds it difficult to figure out which one it is as he walks back down the catwalk, giving her a wink once he notices her as he goes.

When he appears where she stands, he whispers, “They loved it,” to her before being ushered away by one of the stage managers.

His words are a comfort to her as she watches the other models follow his previous path, admiring the other outfits that are part of the show. Designs her own are being paired with, and she can’t help but to be a little flattered by the idea. Even if everyone thinks her design is garbage and refuse to ever have her work for them, she can always say she at least had the opportunity to be part of the greats.

* * *

At the after party, Marinette stands off to the side sipping on her flute of champagne one of the girls walking around with a tray had given her. She searches the faces of everyone around her for one in particular, but she hasn’t been able to find Adrien for the last twenty minutes since the party started. He would have told her if he had other plans to make or other arrangements, she’s sure of it, but he hadn’t said a single thing to her. All she knows is that he was going to tell his father about his plans to quit tonight, and Gabriel Agreste is alone save for the few people speaking to him about his opinions concerning the show.

Marinette chugs the rest of her champagne and places the flute on an empty tray as it passes her by. She smooths down the skirt of her dress before escaping from her corner of the party to at least converse with other designers and network with some of them. At least if her design was a failure tonight, she can still manage to get into the fashion world by knowing the right people. It’s something Chloe would do – if she hasn’t already.

“Ah, excuse me,” comes a voice behind Marinette.

Turning toward them, she spots a short man a few inches away from her wearing a very sophisticated suit. She doesn’t recognize him as anyone important, but doesn’t push him away either. Instead, she smiles and greets him with kindness.

“Yes, sir. Can I help you?”

“Are you one of the students whose design was part of the show tonight?” he asks.

Her heart jumps at being recognized.

“Yes, I am. My name is Marinette, and my design was the green pinstripe suit Adrien Agreste was modeling tonight.”

“I thought as much,” the man smiles. “I really liked the design of your outfit. It was very well put together and was nicely done. I’m a reporter for one of the local newspapers, and, if you don’t mind, I would like an interview with you.” He pulls out a pen and paper from the pocket of his jacket and looks at her expectantly.

“Oh, of course. I don’t mind.”

She glances around the room one last time in search for Adrien, believing he should probably be a part of this interview as well, but he still hasn’t shown.

“Are you waiting for someone?” the man asks. “If so, we can do this interview another time. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“No,” Marinette quickly says, startling the man. In a softer tone, she says, “No, sir. I was just looking for my model partner. I thought maybe you would like to interview us both.”

“That would be preferable.” The man nods as if he hadn’t thought of the idea himself beforehand. His eyes dart behind her, and pointing, he says, “Isn’t that Adrien over there with his father?”

Marinette turns her attention to where Gabriel Agreste had been standing moments before to see Adrien speaking in hushed tones to him. A moment later they walk off together to a room away from the party where Marinette is sure Adrien is about to drop the quitting bomb on his father, and she doesn’t want to disturb him. Not wanting to alert the reporter to the news before Adrien is ready for the press to know, she turns back to him and smiles.

“I think he’s busy with his father so maybe you can interview him separately later on.”

“That’ll be fine. I have connections with Gabriel Agreste Designs. I’m sure I can manage to bribe one of them into getting me an interview with their top model,” the man says.

Biting her tongue, Marinette only offers him a smile because after today, Adrien Agreste won’t be a part of his father’s company.

“Now, first question. How did you come up with the concept of the design?” the man asks, placing the tip of his pen on the notepad and ready to write down Marinette’s answer

The interview goes well without a hitch. Marinette tells the man about how her and Adrien worked together in the finer details for the suit; him giving her the ideas to include the green pinstripes and adding the green claw buttons to match. She also indulges him in the finger details of their partnership, sharing with him how they grew to become friends over the course of the weeks they worked together while leaving out how they might possibly be together. She also leaves out the more private details Adrien had shared with her involving his mother and the tough life he lived being under Gabriel Agreste.

Once they’re done, the man tips his chin to her and comments on how he’s heard designers at the party only give rave reviews about her outfit before disappearing. Happiness surges through her body at the comment, and a new burst of confidence fills her from the very core. She hadn’t expected the designers to give rave reviews about her outfit nor in the least like it so the news is well received on her end.

Marinette glances around to share the news with Adrien. She spots him a minute later leaving the same room he and his father and disappeared in prior to her interview, and she walks over to tell him the great news. Her excitement dwindles, however, once she notices his furrowed brows and downturned frown.

“What happened?” she asks once he’s in earshot. “Did your father not take the news well?”

Adrien grabs her arm and pushes her toward the exit of the party. “I’ll tell you when we’re somewhere more private,” he whispers to her.”

They make their way out through the lobby and to the front doors of the building to find a rare Paris rainstorm falling outside. Neither of them had checked the weather before they left for the show that night so they’re ill-prepared for the rain. Marinette turns to tell Adrien enough, but he only tells her they’ll have to make a run for it to the limo and dry off at his apartment later. She doesn’t have time to protest as they make their way down the steps, careful not to slip and fall. Placing her purse over her head, she manages to prevent her hair from getting too soaked as she blinks the water from her eyes and let’s Adrien guide her.

When they’re safely in his limo, he tells the driver to go to his apartment and they’re making their way through the streets in no time. Adrien moves to turn on the heat of the limo – to prevent them from getting sick – before relaxing on the couch beside Marinette while she rings out the water from the end of her dress.

“I hope you don’t mind me getting water in your limo,” she comments while doing so.

“It’s fine. I’ll have someone clean it later, or maybe I’ll leave it as a surprise to my dad,” he says with a small smile.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she waits for him to tell about how their talk went, but a few minutes roll by with nothing so she makes the jump for him.

“How did your father handle the news?” she asks a second time.

He sighs and leans back on the couch, running a hand through his hair. “About as well as I imagined he would. He was furious.”

She waits for him to continue as she takes off her soaked shoes and sets them on the floor.

“He kept telling me how my behavior isn’t becoming of an Agreste, and I told him maybe I don’t want to be an Agreste like him, and he kind of blew his lid after that. He kept telling me he refused to let me quit modeling and would keep me trapped in my contract until I’m fit enough to take his place as director of the company. I told him he can’t force me to do anything. I’m an adult now. Not a child.” He pauses for a breath.

“And he just kept telling me over and over how he had raised me better than this until I finally told him I’ve made my decision and emailed my resignation before the fashion show started. That shut him right up, and once he did, I just left.”

There’s a sober feeling in his tone that almost sounds regretful, but Marinette knows Adrien better than to think he’s having second thoughts.

“You wish your dad did more, don’t you?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “I wish he had fought harder to keep me in his company, and not the way he did. I mean I wish he had asked me why I wanted to quit and listened to me for once in his life, but I guess he’s an old man set in his ways. He’s never going to change.”

Slowly, Marinette sets her hand on Adrien’s knee and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sure he’ll come around once he sees what you do after all this,” she says encouragingly. “Maybe one day he’ll see that he needed to let you go and live your own dream instead of forcing you into his.”

Setting his hand over hers, Adrien gives her a soft smile. “Thank you, Marinette. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.”

His words are kind and sincere and cause her heart to become ten times lighter as they sit in the limo together, the lights of Paris dancing over them through the windows.

* * *

For the second time in the course of a month, Marinette finds herself back in Adrien’s apartment, but thankfully this time she isn’t buzzed. Even with the one flute of champagne she had at the party, it wasn’t enough to get her drunk or light-headed. Alya’s advice of eating before drinking alcohol had come in hand, and she’s grateful for it now as she crosses the threshold into Adrien’s apartment.

The last time she had been there, neither of them had bothered to turn on the lights while they made out and rid each other of their clothes. It had been Marinette’s request since she didn’t want to remember what Adrien looked like, but it hadn’t done any good since she recognized him right away their first day at Gabriel Agreste Designs. Looking at the apartment now, though, fully lit, she admires the choice in décor and paintings lining the walls. She wonders how much money Adrien had spent on the place, how much of it had been out of spite for his father, and if he would continue living the lavish lifestyle afterward.

Passing by one of the beige couches, a black cat jumps on the arm of the chair and meows up at Marinette.

“Hello, little cutie,” Marinette coos to It as she offers it her hand to sniff before petting it. “What’s your name?”

“That would be Mr. Midnight,” Adrien says when he emerges from his bedroom with a stack of clothes. “He’s a cuddle monster and hogs the sheets so be careful with him.”

“I will keep that mind,” she says towards the cat.

“I brought you an extra pair of my clothes if you wanted to change and get out of your wet ones,” he says, raising the clothes in question for emphasis. “They’re the smallest I have from when I was a kid, so I hope they fit you.”

“I’m sure they’ll fit fine,” Marinette says walking over toward him. “Besides, I’m a designer, remember? I think I can manage to work something out.”

“Right. How could I forget?”

Marinette takes the clothes, asking where the nearest bathroom is before heading toward it to change. She knows Adrien has seen her naked before, but it was in a less intimate position than they’re at right now. If they’re at any intimate position, to be honest. They haven’t exactly discussed the details of their relationship beyond a few stray kisses and dates. They haven’t classified each other as romantic partners, and she doesn’t want to jump the gun right away. There have been too many setbacks for her in the department for her to know better.

After a few minor adjustments to the dry clothes, Marinette walks out of the bathroom with the dry ones in hand to find Adrien on the couch mindlessly petting Mr. Midnight who’s resting beside him. She notices he’s changed out of the suit and into clean clothes like herself.

“Where’d you put the suit?” she asks. “And where can I put my wet clothes?”

“I asked my butler to take my suit to a cleaners we use,” Adrien says, opening his eyes to look at her. “As for your dress, I can ask him to take it as well. I’m sure he hasn’t left yet.”

She takes his offer without a moment’s hesitation. The dress she had worn to the fashion show had been one of her original designs, and she would be devastated if it were to get ruined by a washer and dryer. Adrien’s butler makes an appearance after a phone call and takes Marinette’s clothes away which is the last she hears about the situation before settling down the couch beside Adrien.

“So, how do you think the show went other than the whole situation with your father?” she asks.

“I think it went well,” Adrien smiles. “I think everyone really loved the suit you made. I heard some fashion people commenting about it while I was hiding from my father and his entourage of reporters. How about you?”

“I think it went well, too. I had a reporter interview me about the experience, and when he was done, he commented on how people were raving about the suit.”

“See! I told you everyone would like it!”

“I know, but I was still nervous.”

There’s a small pause before Adrien speaks again.

“Marinette, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now.”

“What is it?” she asks, glancing over at him.

He scratches the back of his neck and avoids eye contact with her as he speaks. “I’ve grown to really like you over these last few weeks, and I think you’re someone I would like to maybe date for the long term. If you’re interested, I mean.”

She blinks.

“What?”

Adrien’s cheeks tint pink as he says, “I really like you as more than a friend is what I’m trying to say, and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to be my girlfriend?”

For a moment, she’s speechless. She doesn’t know what to say. It feels like a giant truck has hit her into a world she can only dream of because this can’t be real, but the heat from Adrien’s body pressed against her tells her it’s very much true. Excitement fills her as she cups his face between her hands and pulls him in for a kiss.

“I really like you, too,” she says, “and I would love to be your girlfriend.”

“Really?” he asks, eyes wide with shock.

“Mhm,” she nods.

“That’s great!”

He pulls her in for another kiss that’s mixed with giddy laughter as they rejoice in taking the next step for their relationship, and there’s no better way Marinette could’ve imagined the night to end other than this.


	7. Epilogue (Eight Weeks Later)

Marinette is sitting over her drawing desk, her pencil sketching out messy lines over the paper as she creates a new design she found inspiration for an hour. The seven o’clock news anchor quietly talks in her ears as she listens to the latest gossip waiting for the story all of Paris has been whispering about with a new up and coming fashion company being steered by Gabriel Agreste’s son. It’s been the talk of the town for the last few weeks so she isn’t at all surprised when it’s the next headline.

She still isn’t surprised when she hears her name mentioned as one of the designers they had hired nor when they mention Adrien by name. Her heart does jolt with excitement, though, as they mention the possibility of Gabriel’s son being good competition for his father and his company and the possibility of Adrien giving a fresher, younger vibe to the fashion world. Something Marinette most definitely doesn’t disagree with. Everything Adrien’s done -- from quitting his father’s modeling agency to using his trust fund to buy a building in Paris and hiring the people his father never looked twice at -- has been all in good.

Alya would say she’s bias, but Marinette’s confident Adrien is going to go far with his new project purely with his charm and personality, so different from Gabriel’s.

The door to her private studio slowly creaking open goes unnoticed by her as she messily adds in black dots along the skirt of the dress she’s designing. She barely registers the sound of footsteps when she adds a sash around the waist of the girl on her paper and still doesn’t notice anyone is the room with her when they lightly cough to get her attention. Her focus remains fully on putting the vision in her head down on paper, and she won’t stop until she’s finished. Maybe that’s why she’s been called a workaholic over the years especially over the last few weeks.

Warm lips pressed against her cheek startles her out of her daze and yanks the earbuds out and turns to find Adrien dressed in a black suit smiling at her.

“Did I come at a bad time, mi’lady?” he asks.

“No,” she says, her shock subsiding and a goofy smile spreading on her face. “I was just finishing up a new design.” She moves back hinting Adrien is allowed to view her creation. “Do you like it? Or do you think I should cool it with the whole ladybug feel of it?”

Adrien leans forward and squints down at the drawing, turning his head this way and that before tapping his chin with his index finger and humming. Marinette’s stomach drops and fills with a small bought of dread.

“What? Do you not like it? Is it too cliché?”

She rolls her teeth over her bottom lip with worry. A part of her knew the design was overused and not unique enough to fit the other outfits she had designed over the last few weeks since signing on with Adrien’s company, but seeing her boyfriend/boss's’ reaction only confirmed it.

“I can change it. We don’t actually have to use it in the fashion show or anything,” she waves off. “It was just a silly idea I came up with. Maybe I’ll create this for myself to wear out. It does suit my personal style anyways, and it’ll probably stand out with—“

Her words fall short as Adrien kisses her cheek again. “I like it. I think it’ll fit in perfectly with the other outfits you’ve created so far.”

“Ah, haha,” she nervously laughs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right. Of course. I knew that.”

“Is this what you’ve been working on?” Adrien asks, moving away from her and glancing around at Marinette’s work table. “I thought we were supposed to meet downstairs an hour ago.”

Marinette blinks. “We were meeting downstairs?”

His smile falters slightly. “For our date? Did you forget again?”

It takes her a moment to remember, and when she does, she gasps and frantically starts collecting her things off the table and placing them in her drawer. The only item she places in the drawer gently is her sketchbook. She’s lost one too many drawings by being hasty and in a rush in her youth, she isn’t going to make the same mistake now. Especially not when everything she’s done for her new company and her income is in the sketchbook.

“Shit! I did forget! I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “Give me maybe five minutes to change and get ready and then we can go. What time are our reservations again?”

He checks his watch. “We have to be there in in twenty minutes.”

“Okay. That’s plenty of time!” Marinette pulls out a compact mirror from her purse to check her hair. It’s up in a messy bun, the same hairstyle she uses when she’s working, but she can work with it. “Maybe give me an extra minute or two to do something about my hair, though.”

“I don’t think the restaurant will be angry if we’re a few minutes late. They seemed kind of excited when I told them the reservation is under Adrien Agreste. I’m sure they’ll be happy to get some press coverage.”

“The press is gonna be there?” Marinette asks, eyes wide.

Adrien must notice her worry because he puts his a hand up and gives her one of his perfect smiles that always seems to calm her. “If there’s anyone there from the papers or reporters, we’ll go somewhere else if it makes you nervous.”

“It doesn’t make me nervous. I just don’t want people to start rumors about us so soon,” Marinette shrugs.

They haven’t talked about the whole issue with their relationship since he’s her boss and she works under him, but it hasn’t been a problem either. Things between them have been remained strictly professional when they’re at work. Once they’re off the clock and no longer in the building, they drop any talk about work and go to being themselves when they’re together romantically. It’s been nice, but the last thing she wants is the press to spread lies about them. She doesn’t want the company to look bad.

“I think they know we’re together since they did see us leave the fashion show together in my limo,” Adrien reminds her. “We were on the front page of every major magazine the next day.”

“True,” Marinette says.

“So don’t worry. We’ll be fine if anyone sees us.” Adrien smiles. A moment later, his eyes widen as if he remembers something important. “Oh. I almost forgot I bought you these flowers for our date tonight.”

From behind his back, he produces a beautiful bouquet of red and white roses with little ladybug crystals decorating the spaces between them. Marinette gasps in surprise as she reaches out for them, cradling them like they’re a newborn baby, and her heart swells with warmth and happiness. She runs a hand delicately over the petals, admiring each one. It’s probably one of the sweetest gifts she’s ever received from someone besides her parents and Alya.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispers. “You didn’t have to get me anything for tonight. It’s not like we haven’t been out before or anything, but thank you. I appreciate them.”

“I didn’t get them just for tonight,” Adrien says, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s cheeks tinge a faint pink color, and his voice grows quieter as he averts his gaze from hers. “They’re also my way of saying thank you for everything you did before with the fashion show and helping push me to quit a job I hated. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this,” he gestures vaguely at the room, “without you, so thank you. I appreciate you being here… a lot.”

Her cheeks burn as she glances at him beneath her lashes, her words having left her with his speech. She doesn’t feel like she did much except have a drunken one night stand with him and let fate take the rest in her ethereal hands, but what how can Marinette tell Adrien that? There has to be some truth to his words given how sincere and honest they were; given how his face is a shade similar to the red roses she now holds.

Without saying anything, she places the roses on her desk and closes the distance between her and Adrien and gently places a hand on his wrist. When he looks up at her, she smiles and kisses his cheek, whispering, “Thank you, Adrien,” against his skin.

She goes to move away, but Adrien surprises her by cupping the side of her face and pulling her back toward him until their lips are pressed together. Tingles shoot down her spine at the feel of his touch, strengthening when he rubs his thumb along her jaw, her eyes fluttering closed and a content hum sounding in her throat when he sucks on her bottom lip. It’s probably one of the more intense kisses they’ve had in awhile. Marinette allows herself to melt into it, feel it in every inch of her body, and savor the moment before it’s gone.

When they move away, there are stars in his eyes she’s sure are reflected in her own.

“Should we head out before it’s too late?” he softly asks.        

Marinette blinks having forgotten all about their date. “Right!” She jumps away from Adrien and frantically gathers her purse and other necessities she had stowed away at her desk. “Give me maybe ten minutes to get ready!”

“No rush.” Adrien picks the roses up from her desk. “I’ll go find a vase for these while you get ready.”

* * *

They’re out on the streets of Paris ten minutes later.

Thankfully Marinette had planned ahead with the help of Alya’s generous advice of taking her dress and makeup with her to work just in case. She’s smoothing out the slight creases in skirt from being bunched up in her closet along with other designs she’s created over the last few weeks, having no time to steam iron them out before they left. Adrien doesn’t seem to mind has he grasps her hand and leads her along to the restaurant, and Marinette’s glad she opted for flats instead of the heels she had wanted to wear tonight. There’s not a doubt in her mind she’d be tripping all over Paris and probably end up at the restaurant with a bloodied knee or broken nose.

The restaurant itself is one of the new-and-upcoming places to visit in Paris with its five-star chefs and gourmet eats. It’s one of the more extravagant places to eat, a place Marinette would never choose for herself, but she’s dating a child model who has never had to worry about money a day in his life so she isn’t too put off by it.

“I know I could’ve picked any other place, but I hope this isn’t too elaborate for you,” Adrien tells her.

“No. This is fine. It’s more than fine, it’s great. I can’t wait to tell Mama and Papa about it. They’ve been wanting to come here since it opened.”

Adrien’s eyes light up. “I’ll have to get them a reservation then.”

She doesn’t burst his bubble by telling him it might a little out of the price range for two bakery owners and smiles instead. “I think they’ll appreciate that very much.”

“Wait here while I go see if our table is ready. We’re only late by,” he checks his watch, “about ten minutes, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He rushes inside the restaurant and to the hostess desk where he talks and charms his way into letting their lateness slide. Marinette’s sure he doesn’t know he’s charming the girl right now, sometimes he can be oblivious, but the way the girl’s looking at him like an angel walked through the doors, there’s no doubt about it. The boy can probably charm his way out of a cereal box if it came down to it. It’s something about his sincere personality and the way he smiles and looks at the world like it’s full of more good than bad that makes it hard to say no to him.

Smiling, Marinette turns toward the streets of Paris, admiring the glow of the city lights and the colors dancing along the Eiffel Tower in the distance. The perfect atmosphere for romance and love. If someone had told her at the start of all this she’d be dating Adrien Agreste, she’d say they were insane and needed to go see a psychologist. If they had told her she’d get over her initial fears of him finding out they slept together, she’d say they were absolute bonkers and didn’t know her at all. If they had told her she’d be one of the most sought out fashion designers, she’d say it was absolutely impossible along with everything else they had claimed

Except, here she stood, in front of a five-star restaurant as one of the most renowned fashion designers in Paris dating Adrien Agreste model turned entrepreneur.

“They said our table will be ready shortly,” Adrien says, startling Marinette from her daze. “What were you out here thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Marinette shrugs. “Just us.”

“What about us?”

“Everything,” she lightly laughs. “From how we met to how we met again to our fashion partnership to now. Just everything.”

“Do you regret any of it?” he asks, insecurity and worry etched in the undertones of his voice.

Marinette thinks about it for a moment, mulls over everything, and decides on her answer easily. Even with the one night stand to now, she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Not a single moment of it,” she smiles.

 

 


End file.
